So last night, the Awesomes (my downstairs neighbor and his posse, so named because of the giant douche-y sticker he has on the back of his truck informing the world of his Awesomeness) threw a party.
|So. Freaking. Awesome.|
It started around 6-ish in the evening, which was fine. They're young, they're pretty... They deserve to celebrate that fact with friends, food, and booze. Right? (Because your prettiness isn't going to last forever, children. Better work it while you've got it. Father Time and Gravity are coming for you one day soon.)
What they don't deserve is to celebrate it with Karaoke. Until 6:30 in the morning. In an apartment directly below me. Until 6:30 in the morning. Did I mention the 6:30 in the morning part?
That's right... 12 1/2 hours of non-stop partying.
I was home alone with Maisy, as Dan and Javi were out of town for the weekend. When the party began and I saw vehicles parking up and down my street, I was all, "Ahhhh, to be young and stupid enough to drink myself into a coma at a hot young Marine's house..." (though I feel a little creepy saying that, come to think of it, since two of my boys are young Marines and extremely handsome. Thank you, Kacey and Brennan, for ruining the military for me.)
When the music started booming beneath me, literally rattling my furniture (literally, people... LITERALLY. For once I'm not exaggerating) I smiled, shook my head, and thought, "Young people these days, with their rock and roll..." (Okay, that part's a lie. What I really thought was, "Come on, really? COUNTRY?? WHAT IS WRONG WITH KIDS THESE DAYS? WHY DOESN'T ANYONE LISTEN TO AC/DC ANYMORE?)
Then the karaoke began.
Oh. My. God.
How is it possible to have 40 people in your apartment and NOT ONE OF THEM is capable of carrying a tune?? HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN??
Furthermore? THEY DIDN'T CARE. (Bless their drunken, tone-deaf, annoying little hearts.)
Now, don't get me wrong... I've sung some baaaad karaoke in my time. Bad. Like, super bad. Like, waking up the morning after and praying to the Baby Jesus that I'll die before I ever see anyone who witnessed my shame ever again BECAUSE IT WAS SO BAD.
But here's where it's different: I had the decency to sing loudly and off-key in a BAR where it is supposed to be filled with people who have left their pride and common sense at the door. Not in the PRIVACY OF MY OWN HOME where all the neighbors had to be privy to it, too. (I save that for morning hours while I'm cleaning the house and forget that my windows are open and I'm not invisible, which is entirely different. After I remember I skulk about in embarrassment, because that's what decent people do, Mr. Awesome.)
Also? I had the courtesy to be in the company of people who could actually sing. That's right, Mr. Awesome... I'M THAT CONSIDERATE.
You need to think more carefully while choosing your friends, dude. A good rule of thumb is to have at least two friends who can sing really well to make up for the fact that you can't. (People appreciate that. They really do.)
Also? I'm a little torked that I wasn't invited to the party.
Just wait, Mr. Awesome. Just wait.
Oh yeah. It'll happen.
Mark my words.