This is such a long twisted story, how could I possibly sum it up in....a novel?
It all starts a few months back when I borrowed my friend's karaoke machine for a party. It had a lot of potential to be lame - I will be the first to admit that, but it was anything but - IN FACT, it was awesome. So awesome that I completely wore my voice out singing until the wee hours of the night. And then waking up early to sing more. Seriously, wait until you hear my Total Eclipse Of The Heart, you'll be all WOAH...maybe...
The love for this karaoke machine almost ruined said friendship because I refused to return her calls just knowing she couldn't wait to get her grubby little paws on my new found happiness. Really, it's the equivalent of making someone smoke crack, leaving them with a massive 8 ball and telling them you'll be back in 10 days and don't touch. I don't know this for a fact, but after my years dealing with addicts I can imagine that this is approximately 1 trillion times worse.
This is me at 8:00am in the morning.
When I finally, reluctantly, because my husband told me it was the right thing to do, gave the machine back, my friend was all "dude, I totally have hook-ups in the Philippines - chill". "WHAT?"
Sure enough...4 LOOONG months later and after her parents have taken a trip to the Philipines, I am a proud owner of a EXTREME Magic Sing Karaoke Machine. It's Awesome. 2100 songs, 2 cordless microphones - seriously - as I was belting out Against All Odds there was this river sound...then a giggle...then a flush...then Jess running out of the bathroom laughing hysterically. Not funny. At all. Nobody fucks with Phil Collins.