Jessielah!

adventures in awesomeness…

Karaoke.

The post you have all been waiting for. I know, I’ve made you wait. Now, get ready to (re) experience a night like you will never forget – unless you got black-out drunk, like I did.

I would like to say that the night started innocently enough, celebrating my audition, but that would be a lie. We got home, started pouring whiskey and vodka,  and changed into hoe gear. Well, not really hoe gear – there were no backless tops or rubber pants – more like hoe gear for 31 year olds. Ruby had the slit and I was wearing a a skirt meant for a 16 year old on beach day. I did pair it with granny pantyhose and a long sleeve shirt, so it wasn’t that offensive… to me.

Sara was the DD and picked us up after she got out of school. We poured our drinks into “to-go” cups and hopped in the car to pick up John, aka, Emile Hirsch, aka, Lunchbox. I was already loud and drunk (nice). I found a pair of 3D glasses that resembled cheap Ray Bans and decided that they went perfectly with my skirt.

I am beginning to think this is my default sunglasses face.

We finished our drinks and then headed over to the Karaoke Bar to sing the night away. We got a book, we got some drinks, and well…  because I don’t remember much of the night, I’ll let the photos tell the rest:

The Friday Five Six (karaoke style)

9:17 PM: An innocent gathering of friends…
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9:52 PM: …quickly becomes a karaoke fest after a round of drinks.
[rockyou id=157446857&w=426&h=319]

10:35 PM: Glasses with florescent straws transform karaoke into American Idol.
[rockyou id=157445328&w=426&h=319]

11:07 PM: The quest for a normal face from John continues…
[rockyou id=157446205&w=426&h=319]

11:32 PM: Beyond the point of no return, the boys break out into song.
[rockyou id=157446341&w=426&h=319]

12:12 AM: By this time, Jeremy gets his hands on the camera and takes 31 photos, including a fashion shoot with Sara.
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I don’t remember much after 12:17am (“Thumbs Up to Little Meun”), but I was told that we closed down the karaoke bar, then went to another bar of which I have no memory. Apparently, after Sara tried to get the two drunkest people to drunk more (I’m glad even in my black out state, my body knew that it did not want to end up with alcohol poisoning) the waitress offered us half price drinks for next time and I started making out with an ashtray. Then we went to a pizza place where there was a bar fight (complete with chair throwing), people (maybe us) falling down stairs. Oh and I got lost in the bathroom.

32 people agree that this is some Good Holiday Fun that would make Stephanie proud.

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Do Your Morals Need Supporting?

My audition was at 7:40pm and I needed to arrive 15 minutes early. If the drive was 50 minutes without traffic, what time would Ruby and I need to leave her house in order to stop by Ikea on the way?

Yeah, we had plans to eat dinner (at home) too, but everything kind of went out the window because we decided to stop by Lucky’s to stock up on $2 wine, vodka, whiskey, mixers and two oranges, because, well, oranges are good. I also needed a folder for my head shots, resume, and bio. Albertson’s school supply section sucked balls, so we headed to Ross. Little did I know that I would run into an old flame.

Twilight boys. I get older, they stay the same age. Yes, they do, yes they do.

We decided to leave Ross before I became the proud owner of a life-size Team Jacob poster. For those just dying to know, I found the folder at the mail box store next door. The only neat story there was that I got a free mint. Nice.

Now armed with booze, binders, and oranges, we returned to Ruby’s to get ready for my audition. I gave Ruby a preview and got a standing ovation from Columbo. We were on the road a little later than planned, but got lucky with traffic and arrived at Mission City Opera in one piece. I was blown away with how friendly everyone was. Seriously, every single person who was working that night was super-friendly and welcoming. Also, they called me Jessie, which made me feel at home.

Waiting for my number to be called.

When they found out that Ruby wasn’t a singer (“You mean you’re a nothing? A zilch? A zero?”), one man tried recruiting Ruby to be on crew. After complaining that being on crew sounded like a lot of work, Ruby explained that she was here as my moral support. The man looked at me and asked (quite seriously, I might add), “So your morals need supporting?” I couldn’t keep a straight face. Even Ruby stopped texting for a moment to snicker. Because, as you, my dear readers, already know, my morals need much supporting, as often as they can get it.

I have a thing for photos of me trying to keep a straight face.

I went on shortly after that (sandwiched between two SFCM school mates) and sang La Canzone di Doretta, from La Rondine (Puccini). I know they weren’t doing any Puccini this season, but every time I hear the opening of the song, I feel happy and relaxed, so I figured what a better state to sing in than happy and relaxed. My two high notes (which were glorious for Columbo), were a bit  tired and not quite as brilliant as I would have hoped. She didn’t ask for a second song, and I was starting to feel a bit down, when she began asking me about my time away and coachings. Interesting. I was rusty, but not forgotten. Whew. As we left, the girl at the front desk asked me to wait, and a woman came out and asked if I would do ensemble. Heck yeah, I would. It’s been three years since I’ve sung. No lessons, no coachings. Just babies and playing around occasionally. No time to be snobby. Besides, I could learn all the roles while in the ensemble, build relationships with bay area singers and MCO. Win. Win. Whoo-hoo!

Ruby and I were amped on the ride home. We talked about the audition, the future, and (of course) what we would be singing at karaoke.  Weezer, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Franz Ferdinand.


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It’s My Scientific Speciality.

I woke up Tuesday morning tired. I should have slept in, but I had a laundry list of stuff I needed to get done before my audition that night, so off I went into the wonderful world that is San Francisco. I managed to get most everything done before I grabbed Ruby for lunch. We hit the usual spot, Louis’, for lunch.

A man with 17 children works here. He’s taking applications to make more.

It was pretty crowded so we opted to sit at the bar. As we waited for our food, Ruby noticed something, well, um, odd, about the guy sitting next to me. Using our super sleuth skills, we managed to capture our discoveries on film to share with you, dear reader.

Not the usual, Bob. Today, I’ll take that pie ala mode. I’m going rogue.

As if my choice of literature wasn’t enough of a suggestion…

Oh. Well, hello there. Don’t you stick out like a batman at a pre-med party. But that wasn’t all. As he got up to poop, (I am sure of it) we saw that he had a cast on one foot, and on the other, he wore this:

The ultimate in fashion footwear for the gun-slinging rogue.

We have since come to the conclusion that he is a closet gay who has been drawn to the city. However, he can’t help but flaunt his Republican-ness to hide the fact that he needs warm, man-arms badly. (Mmm, man-arms.) Using his Sarah Palin book as fodder, he baits himself in hopes of striking up a feisty argument, culminating, of course, with hot, gay sex. Ah, reading people… it’s my scientific specialty.

15 people agree that The Neverending Story was one of the most awesome things about 1984.

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Fear of Flying.

A week later and I have just recovered from my trip to SF. It took four blogs to accurately cover the details.

Yep, it was that much fun.

I departed from DFW on United Express and now understand why people are afraid to fly. I’m not afraid to fly. Just the opposite. I love flying (wanted to be a pilot until the 10th grade), but now I see why people think they are going to come crashing down in flames every time they board a plane. I m pretty sure this was the same duct-taped wing plane of Matt’s Elizabethan-esque tales. (Note: If you haven’t heard a story from the master, Elizabeth, well boys and girls, you haven’t heard a story). This plane was so small. If I sneezed I would have hit my head on the ceiling and punched the lady next to me in the boob. What struck me as odd, however, was the size of the bathroom. It was huge. Tons of leg room. I should have taken my laptop and sat in there.

Three hours and one mini-bottle of wine later, I was in SF. After getting lost en route to Ruby, her awesome (!) cousin Melissa, and her instantly-likable (point!) friend Kimber, I made it to the Prius without the parking nazis issuing any tickets. Whew. It’s become tradition to stay up too late and drink the first night I arrive.  This time was no exception. At least everyone kept their clothes on. Mmm… Coronas

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No Babies Allowed.

In  just a few hours I will be dropped off at the airport and I will be alone. Me. Armed only with a jacket, crossword, and carry-on bag. No wrestling with car seats or pack n’ plays. No waiting in that never-moving line to get an infant boarding pass. Only one pair of shoes to take off. No testing baby formula or juice. No fighting to keep toddlers in seat belts. No worrying about in-flight diaper changes or spilled juice. I can even have a drink if I want.

Awesome.

Gasp! But don’t you love your kids, Jessielah? Won’t you miss them? Yes and Yes.

However.

When the boys and I flew from Dallas back to San Diego, Jaxon and I were recovering from a nasty stomach virus and Mylo was still sick. The adult to child ration was extremely unbalanced which made for a nightmare of a flight. Jaxon pitched a fit every time I tried to fasten his seat belt, to the point that he was just screaming bloody murder and I was physically restraining him from sliding out of it. Meanwhile Mylo was squirming around on my lap, touching and grabbing the weirdo next to us, who kept hitting on me while hitting me up for baby aspirin and bothering me with small talk… Yes, thanks for telling me that my husband is a lucky man. I almost explained that currently I had more than my fair share of men in my life right now and wasn’t taking applications for more. Bleck.

So yes, while I love my children, I will be relishing every second of alone time. Until I land and have to call and hear their sweet, unintelligible voices. =)

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Saturday Mornings.

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0 people feel sorry for me. Sigh.

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Blind Enthusiasm.

Although Saturday morning sucked hard balls, — at one point Mylo was sitting on my eye with a dirty diaper, bouncing up and down — it was worth it.

Friday night, Matt & I made a new song based off of this melody I hummed into my mp3 player one morning. It was originally supposed to be a tad bit slower, with the chorus revolving around the words “Upside Down”, but as we were working, I came across some old photos of when I was in SF living downtown on Bush Street. I had created this montage to Thumbs, including thumbs up to Fignuts, Dead Fish, and of course, giant LobsterRitas… So I changed the chorus and came up with some lyrics that weren’t too offensive while Matt practiced on the guitar and bass.

Warning: This is just a demo! We had consumed most of those beers before the night began, hence the basic and unimaginative drum beat. To enjoy the latest from Jessielah:

<<Click Here>>

Blind Enthusiasm

Going downtown on the N-line,
Seeing what shenanigans we can find.

Thirty minutes at the grind, out of time
TVs blaring, mouths-a-glaring, can’t unwind
What was said, overheard
What was read, is it dead?

Flashing lights, large estates, Ryan, Jake
Day old coffee and stale wedding cake
Plastic seats, orange is neat
Took a cup of Thumbs Up!

Thumbs Up! Put Your Thumbs Up!

Doing, laughing, riding, drinking champagne of beers
Living for the living, don’t have no fears
‘Cept runny noses and a smeared shadowed eye
Turn your back and jump, want to fly?

Evictions, too much traffic, shoes on the lawn
What the fuck in the world is going on?
All is good, more is better, free is the best
Like a vato, say, Thumbs Up! to the chest.

Thumbs up! Put Your Thumbs Up!

A nickel and a smile will last a long while…

Going downtown on  the N-line
I am here and now the night is mine.

Running free, hugging trees on Rue Nessy V,
Late night movie, IMAX 3D, at AMC
Home movies, how you haunt me, wish you didn’t exist
Forget the Thumbs, lets do it, exploding bumps of the fists!

Thumbs Up! Put Your Thumbs Up!

Jessielah – vocals, lyrics
JunkyardSam – guitar, bass, drums

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Ewh.

NOTE: This post may come across as mean. If you are of that opinion, you can suck-it.

So one of my dear friends joined OK Cupid a while back because it was free. However, in order for me to see (and laugh at and rate) the guys who contacted her, I had to join myself. Now, I did put that I was married, had two kids, and the only reason I had an account was because I wanted to see, laugh at, and rate the guys who contacted my dear friend. Despite this, every so often I receive “winks” from guys with really bizarre photos or a random email asking how Nut Milk taste. I thought I had turned most everything off so I wasn’t bombarded with OK Cupid spam, but apparently not. because freshly delivered to my inbox was an email congratulating me. Congratulations?!? What did I win? (cheese puffs, I hope!)

No, Jessielah, you did NOT win any cheese puffs. Cheese puffs are bad for you, made from aliens, and leave neon orange stains on your couch, clothes, teeth, and whatever else they happen to come in contact with.
No.

Congratulations because one of these nine men chose you on QuickMatch (which, according to my dear friend, is stupid and doesn’t work.)

1. Letting the ladies know that he is one with nature, but not one with his face.

2. Peninsula Boy.

3. What does Nut Milk taste like? Be specific, now, ’cause I’m a pervert.

4. Meditation is not a hippie thing, it’s a people thing. Riiiight.

5. In my attempts to be cool (see earring), I forgot I was old. But my beard didn’t.

6. It’s Dennis Quaid! Yeah!

7. I’m probably a douche. Too bad, cause I have a thing for freckles.

8. How deep am I? Be careful, don’t drown in my ONE EYE!!!

9. A Shane Dundas look-a-like. Nice.

Can YOU guess which one chose me on QuickMatch? Five points to the winner!

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5 Steps To Unleash Your Awesome.

1. Get Enough Sleep. I know the Sealy Posturepedic commercials tell you that since you can only get six hours, you’d better buy their $1000 mattress to get a “better six”. Really though, you should aim 8, 9, or (if you’re Ruby) 12. It will be nearly impossible to unleash your awesome if you have to guzzle multiple cups of Joe to stay awake. Be good to yourself, skip a night of American Idol or Farmville and get a good night’s sleep.

2. Hit the Ground Running. There is a reason we are supposed to exercise. It makes you feel good. I am convinced that at least half the people on anti-depressants can alleviate most of their depression by eating better, drinking more water, and getting exercise. Fresh air is good. Sunshine (in small amounts – thanks global warming) is good. So go for a walk, hit the gym, pop in that Billy Blanks DVD and Taebo your self into a better mood.

3. Confront Your Fears. “Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?” – Marianne Williamson This hit home.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this is how most of us think. I know so many people who have so much potential for greatness, that it isn’t even funny. It’s not that we are so afraid to fail, but that we are too afraid to succeed. One day after a terrible (TERRIBLE) rehearsal, my opera director says to me: What is wrong with you? Your career is taking off like a rocket ship. Don’t let it leave without you. That has always haunted me. I OFTEN purposefully sabotage myself. Not because I am afraid of failure, but because I’m afraid of what will happen when I succeed?

4. Realize the Workload. Yes, it’s hard. We all would rather being shopping with Paris Hilton’s credit card, chatting on Gmail, or watching Top Chef episodes on Hulu. However, in order to unleash the awesome, it takes work. Hard resume-writing work. You have to practice, every day. You have to give up the Chick-fil-A Ice Dream cones (sigh). You have to run like your life depends on it. And when I say you, I mean me.

5. Do It! What is your idea of awesome? Singing? Writing? Staining that table that you built four months ago? Just get up and do it! Put on some eye liner and kick some ass. Sometimes, unleashing your awesome is like brushing your teeth or doing the dishes. You don’t want to do it. But you know you have to. Eventually you just tackle it like a hot guy lying naked on your bed. Grrowhrr!

Awesome unleashed.

And for those who are curious…. I have 3 days to my first audition in three years. Not only do I plan to rock it. I WILL rock it.

Ciao!

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So Funny I Forgot to Laugh.

The Love Guru. I know. I should have turned it off before the opening credits started to roll. I shouldn’t have had it in my queue in the first place. But I did. And since it was the shortest of my three uninteresting movies, I decided to just get it over with and watch it.

The writing was so bad it made me cringe. Poorly delivered lines like, “I know who can help us. His name is the Love Guru,” while segueing into a shot of the Love Guru’s palace. Sigh. I must believe that people only did this movie because Mike Myers asked them to. Because it was bad. Like sniffing markers behind the cafeteria bad. I lost several brain cells. Now how the heck am I supposed to understand anything about the oxygen consumption of fatigued knees?!?

But then something happened. I started laughing. Kind of like when we were on our way to AP&M (Applied Physics and Mathematics for the unhip) and three cyclists crashed into one another creating this tangle of meat and metal and everyone gasped, except for Ruby, who started laughing… loudly. Much like Ruby, I knew I shouldn’t be laughing, I should be gasping in horror at the atrocity on my screen. But I just couldn’t help myself.

Jaques “Le Coq” Grande?!

That. That made me laugh out loud. Okay. And not just because it was Justin Timberlake with a gross mustache, French-Canadian accent, playing hockey, and surrounding himself with roosters. But because he has a wang so big that he has to hoist it out of his chonies! Daaamn.

I did get a kick out of the Bollywood flashback video with Jessica Alba and Mike Myers. It took me back to freshman year when Ritesh made us watch all those Amitabh Bachchan movies (“Numba?” “Nine?” Shoe in face!) Ah… today must be UCSD day.

But that’s it. This movie was like a game of make-me-laugh. When nobody’s laughing. Not even when you pee in the hole. Even Stephen Colbert and that Pale Dude (“It’s Bill’s birthday. Oh, I hate that guy- There’s cake in the conference room. Oh well I should say hello…“) couldn’t save this movie.

Time to get excited about some Harry Potter.

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