I love to sing. Really, I do. And I sing All. The. Time.

I sing around the house. I sing in the shower. I even sing in my car. And dance. And let me tell you, I have caused the near crash of like eleventy thousand cars from my car dancing. Cuz it’s full of teh awesome. Or seriously disturbing. I haven’t figured out which one quite yet. A friend and I were going country line dancing one night and Watermelon Crawl was on the radio. Well, this hot guy in a truck behind us got a front-row seat to our car dancing and loved it so much that he had to pull alongside us and flirt for a bit. On the freeway. At 65 mph. *sigh* Good times.

This was of course back before the Earth’s crust cooled, cuz you would never…..NEVER…..see me country line dancing now. That girl…you know the one you saw last week/month/year recently at that country bar that looked suspiciously like me? Yeah, you might wanna get your eyes checked cuz it was most definitely prolly not me.

Anyway… I bet you’re wondering whether my singing sounds like nails on a chalkboard or is akin to hog calling. Or perhaps you’re thinking that since I was blessed with such awesome car-dancing skillz, that there’s no way my voice could top that.

Well you would be wrong.

I can sing. Quite well, actually.

I was in the choir when I was younger. I performed in school shows. As I got older, though, band became the priority in my life and singing in the choir just couldn’t compete. Plus I couldn’t sight read vocal music (still can’t), so there was no way to get back into it later on. But I didn’t stop singing altogether. And there were people out there who knew I could sing. A friend of mine tried putting together a band in high school and wanted me to be the singer. But it didn’t happen. Wanna know why?

Bcuz I get SO nervous singing in front of strangers. And I shake. Bad. You can hear it in my voice. I’m not talking about the vibrato that you hear when people sing normally. It’s much worse than that. And then my pitch goes out the window. It doesn’t matter if I can sing the song perfectly alone or among friends. In front of strangers, I end up sounding like a pubescent boy sitting in a massage chair set at level 1,000,000.

Now here’s the funny part…

Y’all ever heard of this thing out there called karaoke? Yeah, well, I’m thinking of gathering a lynch mob to go after WHOEVER THOUGHT THAT CRAP UP. It is evil. EEEEEVVVVVIIIIILLLLL. And it is the epitome of temptation for me.

Shut. Up. We aren’t even talking about sex right now. FOCUS PEOPLE.

I love karaoke. But I have issues singing in front of strangers. So I’m sure you can understand why I must stab the person who purposely created something to force me to sing in front of strangers and then made me fall in love with it. Hard. And yes, I have a karaoke machine. And yes, it’s collecting dust in my garage as I write this. Why? Bcuz it’s EVIL. Didn’t I make that clear before? Moving on.

I can sing around friends and family. And I’m ok. Not perfect. But ok. It’s casual and I don’t feel too nervous around them. But around strangers…FORGET IT. The last time I sang karaoke in front of strangers? O.M.F.G. We are so NOT going there. Suffice it to say, it was AWFUL. And I seriously doubt that taking away the massive amounts of liquor I had that nite would have made any difference whatsoever.

So, I will never be a superstar. And I’m ok with that. And y’all are much better off anyway.

Trust me.

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P.S. Let me know if you are interested in getting a car dancing tutor. I’m more than willing to share my skillz.

Disclaimer: Today’s GTT post has the potential to be really REALLY offensive. Yeah, I know. What about my blog ISN’T really really offensive? Point taken. However, if you would rather not take the chance of being offended, you should click over to read about trolls. Cuz honestly. What’s offensive about trolls?

Hey! Did y’all hear? The Olympics are going on right now. No, not the games with the swimmers and the gymnasts. The OTHER games. The WINTER Olympics. Yeah, the games with the questionably masculine figure skaters and the red-headed snowboarding god that made me totally wanna have his babies last night. That is, if I even wanted to have any more babies. And since this baby factory is permanently CLOSED, I’m thinking the chance of me having his red-headed babies is… um… ZERO. But I bet he dies his hair anyway.

Anyhoo… Today’s Girl Talk Thursday question asks “What would you be an Olympic champion of?” Well, shit. That’s easy! I don’t even have to think about this one AT ALL. And it’s a totally new Olympic event, so the gold is gonna be all mine. ALL MINE. Wanna know what it is?

Blow Jobs

Bet you wish you had clicked on that link to go read about the trolls right about now, huh?

And now I bet you’re asking, “Is she SERIOUS?”

Well, if today were different, I might write this whole long thing about my prowess with oral sex and leave you really scratching your head wondering if I was dead dog serious or if accidentally overdosed on Nyquil last night and was still feeling the effects.

But today is what it is. So, I guess a better answer to the question is that I am an Olympic champion of survival. I’m trudging through this challenging course that is life. With my latest set of obstacles of staying in school, looming unemployment, and being a single parent. Again. And I’m surviving. I’m still here.

I’m not the only one out there doing it, though. We all do it. We all make it through each day, through all the trials and challenges that are set before us. Sometimes we miss and take a deduction. Sometimes we totally crash and burn, eliminating any chance for a medal on that round. And sometimes we TOTALLY FUCKING ROCK IT and get the gold.

And that’s all we can do.

I salute you all, fellow champions!

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So raise your hand if you were even the TINIEST bit curious about what I would have written if I had stuck with my 1st answer. Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Y’all are as sick as I am. Good for you.

Valentine’s Day.

You know, I can remember a time when I really looked forward to Valentine’s Day. A day when I would give ‘something’ to the people who mattered most to me at the time (even if it was just the perfect card). A day when I would wait with bated breath to see if I received ‘something’ from someone who thought I was special to them (which happened more often than I thought would yessirree!).

But now? I’m not sure what I think about Valentine’s Day.

Ok, so yeah, I admit my turmoil has something to do with the current state of my marriage. Honestly, who wouldn’t be affected by that? It’s possible that once things settle down on that front, I may be able to look at Valentine’s Day as I once did in the past and welcome it back into my life with open arms.

But then again, maybe not.

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A former coworker once told me that he and his wife didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. I was still wore my heart-shaped rose-colored glasses at the time, though, so his words kinda shocked me. And, of course, I HAD to ask…

“Why?”

His answer was interesting. He explained that he and his wife felt it was more special to do something romantic on any other day of the year, not on the day when romance was encouraged and (for many) expected. They both felt that when romance was unexpected and spontaneous, it meant more to them.

I told him I understood what he meant, but I don’t think I really did understand. Then.

Fast forward 15 years. And I think I get it now.

I would rather have romance any time that was heartfelt and sincere and… meaningful… than have a lifetime of Valentine’s Day gifts that might have very little thought behind them (have you met my husband?) and that might be given out of a feeling of obligation.

That being said, if flowers show up for me on Valentine’s Day? I would be ok with that. You might even catch a smile on my face. I’m not nuts after all. Yeah, I know there are some that would beg to differ with that.

Just no candy. Cuz then I really will have to stab someone.

I think this topic is a brilliant way to start participating in Girl Talk Thursday, don’t you? Sadly, it will be pretty short. I’m writing this kinda late and I’m starting to get sleepy. I probably will re-read this tomorrow and add some brilliance to it that I just might miss tonight (watch for the update! LOL).

I have a little late-blooming love for undergarments. But if I had money, it would be a full-blown obsession! I would need a separate closet for just my undergarments! True story. I have my comfy undergarments for some days. The girls need support after all and I’m all about support. But…on the flip side…I just love sexy, frilly, racy, steamy undergarments that just plain make me feel hawt! I am not (I repeat NOT) afraid of thongs. BRING ON THE BUTT FLOSS! Even if no one sees my underwear, I know they are there. And that knowledge it a huge ego boost. HUGE. And the times when someone does get to see them? Honey there’s not enough water in the WORLD to put that fire out!

And since Victoria’s Secret can’t seem to get a fucking clue of what size a REAL sexy woman wears, I have to say how much I love Frederick’s of Hollywood. Frederick’s is this sexy woman’s saving grace. I wouldn’t be able to indulge my addiction without them. Actually, I think it’s time I head upstairs and do some indulging. For me. My ego could use a boost.