6:47 a.m. I sang, "It's Rainin' Men" and "Crazy Love" at a karaoke joint last night. I haven't done this since approximately 1992, but Judy really likes karaoke...enters competitions and everything...so this is what she wanted to do tonight.
Right now I am sitting at a table watching a group of three drunken women in their 50's sing, "Someday We'll Be Together", by the Supremes. They call themselves the Starbucks B#*CHES. They have great hair. Nice highlights. Fashionable cuts. Classy and pretty even though they are three sheets to the wind in a trashy karaoke bar in White Bear Lake, MN. I imagine them to be professional women, maybe coworkers, taking a night out to play together. I watch as the one in the jeans shorts throws her arm carelessly around the lead singer's shoulder and leans in to provide an unfortunate harmony. I am loving this. They finish and I cheer. Me and the five other people here.
A few minutes later, I watch Judy get up there. Judy has not changed at all in the past few years since I last saw her. She is wearing a strapless blue tropical print dress that she bought on her honeymoon in Aruba. The padded bra underneath has slipped a bit and her chest is starting to travel down toward her navel. I can see the lumpy indents from her too tight control-top pantyhose beneath the skirt as she sways back and forth with her eyes closed. She is singing a Selena song and is doing a pretty good job of it until she attempts to dance during the instrumental part. I giggle. White girl can't dance. Her lack of coordination has only been enhanced by the two glasses of wine she had at dinner. I turn my head away so that Judy won't see me giggling and notice that the Starbucks B#*tches are laughing and pointing at Judy. My eyes narrow. I feel like a protective older sibling. I can laugh at Judy, but nobody else better.
I formulate a plan. A plan for world domination.. Oh wait, not world domination. (I have been playing too much Risk lately.) No, I formulate a plan to bring the masses together in mutual understanding and love. Like those hippie-freak Coke commericials in the 70's. I find the perfect song and put in a request to the DJ. "Midnight Train To Georgia".
When the song is called I invite the B#*ches to come up and join Judy and I. We end up having a lovely time and there is riotous applause when we are done. (Nevermind that WE are the only ones applauding since the place has cleared out.) I find out that the B#*ches own a successful catering company. They were a group of women who lived in the same neighborhood when they met. Initially, they would rotate hosting weekly gourmet dinners at each other's houses. It began to get out of hand as they tried to outdo each other. Eventually, they decided they should pool their resources and so their company was born. Tonight they are celebrating their fifth year in business. The one in the jeans shorts has five children. I am amazed. FIVE children! She's got great skin. I comment on it and she demures. "It's genetic." Lucky. I imagine by the time I am her age I will have so much loose skin that I'll resemble a Sharpei.
So, we leave the B#*ches and begin walking the two blocks to my car. We cross the street in front of a car full of guys. "Hey! You ladies want to go to a party?", one yells out the window. Oh, for crying out loud. Judy waves and yells back that maybe she would. "No. You wouldn't," I say. I pull her across the street. Judy is flattered that a car full of young drunk men propositioned us. I don't have the heart to tell her that those guys probably would have hit on us if we had been cross-dressing football players in skirts.
I get into the car amid Judy's endless chatter. She tells me that I am prissy and always say the right thing with people. I agree. She says that I have a big butt. I agree. She says it's okay to have a big butt as long as your boobs are big too. I tell her that's logical. She tells me she's got a small butt, but she goes to the gym to give it shape. I tell ther that's great. Judy falls silent for a while. After a few minutes she tells me she is happy and says we should do this again sometime. I glance over at her. She has the seat back in my truck and is smiling to herself. I smile back and agree that we should definitely do this again sometime.