Hubby suggested going to a pizza buffet place last night for a cheap dinner. Three-quarters of the way there, he says, "Oh, the folks I work with will probably be there." I typically like more warning than that when I have to be sociable, especially when it's people I've barely met. I resign myself to an evening of inane awkwardness.

We pull up. I hear god-awful singing. We look in to see a guy with a microphone doing what I think is supposed to be sexy moves while the crowd claps. I stop, then turn to stare at Hubby.

Hubby: "As God is my witness, I didn't know there'd be karaoke."

A passion as of a thousand white-hot suns pales before my detestation of karaoke. I can sing, I can sing well. I hate listening to people who can't sing, especially when those people think they're good. Closing your eyes and raising your hand soulfully makes me want to fling heavy crockery at you. When you slide from one note to the next, please try to stay in the same octave. Please learn your vocal range and stay within it.

There were a couple of people with good voices there. Hubby's supervisor was not one of them. However, the guy believes he's one of the great undiscovered entertainers of the nation. It was the most painful evening I've ever spent outside of a hospital.

Thanks, Deena. Actually, I meant to say earlier how much everyone has encouraged me, both here and on LJ, the last two days. I was about ready to lose it on Thursday, but I'm feeling much more in control today.

And Deena, you deserve an award because your day sounds like it would have sucked the life right out of me. I hope things let up (at least a bit) soon.

Connie, the karaoke story cracks me up. I love bad karaoke when I'm in a small bar with mostly my friends. Hearing people I don't relaly like sing really badly is really painful. There's not enough alcohol to make it worth while.

Ohhhh, Connie.

One of my pastimes is tryng to think of popular songs with a tiny enough range that I won't embarrass myself. So far, I've got "I'm so lonesome I could cry". Thank God I never do karaoke, because who is insane enough to compete with Hank?

Jilli, give us the title of the novel. Now.

Hubby's supervisor sang Britney Spears. And "So long, Earl" (Good-bye, Earl?) with his girlfriend (the country song about the abused wife killing her husband). And "Santa Claus is Coming To Town" and changing the words.

Hubby admits he owes me.

Yeah, he really does, connie!

Oh my connie, he owes you big time.

I have no water. We had a water pipe (outside thankfully) bust and had to turn off the main. I showered in my neighbors outdoor shower since this happened after working on the lawn for a couple hours.

I also thought it was Sunday and put all my recycles and garbage out for Monday. Good grief. They're staying there.

In good news, my 3rd season Soap DVDs arrived today and the boys can't wait to watch them after loving 1&2.

I'm amazed that there was an outdoor shower available. You live in some neighborhood!

Edited to note that my amazement in no way negates the suckiness of no water. Despite the neighbor's cool outdoor shower, you have my sympathies.

Today we went to the memorial service of an amazinfg woman. Not someone I knew well, but Marge wasa woman you had real conversations with the first time you met. She was also the well loved matriarch of her family. her family talked a lot about how they wewre made to go to family reunions - and how greatful they were for them . I was thinking of VW - and the pain she went thru when she last got her family together , but that she was thinking about doing it again. Do it, if you can.

Jilli, give us the title of the novel. Now.

You mean the silly gothic romances I picked up today? Um ... Thornyhold (I bet I misspelled that) and Touch Not the Cat by Mary Stewart, and a hardback collection of six gothic stories (including somthing by Victoria Holt, IIRC) that I bought purely on the strength of the cover illustration: a huge, looming castle in the background, storm clouds, and a dark-haired woman in an amazingly frilly, multi-layer Victorian nightgown (with a red cloak over it!) running away from the huge, looming castle. I started giggling every time I looked at it.

Next time, though, there's a big computer box in the basement. A couple of holes and bada bing, bada boom, Kara's your punkin.

No idea how I'll explain it to Pete, but I'll worry about that later.

I have no water. We had a water pipe (outside thankfully) bust and had to turn off the main...

Am I the only burn-out here who thought "gee, that's a bold thing to keep outside" and "why don't they have any water because their bong broke?" before getting to the end?