Ice Ice Baby

Late night karaoke in Oklahoma

I was infected with short man syndrome during my 6^th grade year when I measured in at 5’’1, the illness never left me and I haven’t grown a cm since.   I was devastated when it became apparent that although I was capable of reaching the height requirements for a roller coaster, I was never going to fulfill my dream of strutting down a runway alongside the  6’’0 Namibian women of Calvin Clien, (who at the age of 12 I so identified with).  In short (play on words), I have been angRY ever since and have developed a passive aggressive temper that would put Napoleon to shame.  The drawback to my condition is a short fuse and an ongoing reputation of being a verbal abuser.   Sometimes, I am proud of my temper and view it as an art form.  Taking pride in never cursing at my prey and smiling obnoxiously while I humiliate them leads me to believe that I accost with charm.  The scary thing about my attitude problem is that I truly relish back talk.  My hands start to quake when I realize how eloquently horrible I am being to someone who deserves it.  This sadistic practice can be blamed on my role model of a father who once advised when you know you have truly offended someone, and they begin to rant and rave hysterically at you ,that it is best to smile before patiently reaching over to stroke their hand and coo, “ “It seems like you are taking this subject very seriously sweetheart, and that  concerns me, ILL PRAY FOR YOU!””   

  
Incidentally, I talk a lot of head, but am horrified of getting in an actual fight.  If someone were to ever get tired of my shit and throw up fist a cuffs, I would more than likely hurl my body to the ground and curl into the fetal position screaming, “You can hit me ok??...JUST PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T TOUCH MY FAAAACE!!!!”

Cut to, I was recently at a karaoke bar in Oklahoma with a few of my old high school friends.  Riled by the troops and three jager bombs in a row, I was ready to bring down the house with my rendition of “killing me softly”.   I’m a pretty decent vocalist, I grew up in the church choir and am fluent in reading music notes.  Not to say I was every in the works of signing with Columbia records, but back in the day I was  known to star as lead roles in more than a few high school plays.   So after doing a tedious amount of vocal warm ups with my patient girlfriends in the bathroom, I proceeded to sing my heart out.  I knew that when I wiggled my fingers on the mike each time I went vibrato (circa early Christina Aguilera), that the night had been a huge success.    So I was utterly taken aback after my performance, when some obese black dude wearing a Mercedes symbol dangling from his chain confronted me with, “Hey, I heard your singing, and you ain’t all that girl!”  I slowly sized up Simon Cowl and decided to take the high road and not partake in his childish nonsense.  After all I was 26, I thought, this man is clearly dealing with some issues, Ill just say something soft so he will go away. ……..

“EXCUSE  ME SALAD DODGER???” , I asked.

 (At this point my best girlfriend Jessica, who is responsible for finishing what I always enevitablly start, was digging her nails under the table into my knees.)

“Huh?, the critic asked.

“.. It just appears to me, that you my dear are no stranger to a knife and fork’

 “Shit, well your are looking like a 12 year old boy, no titties mama, no titties..”- he sputtered, looking around to his friends for an obvious laugh or a supporting high five.

“That is probably because I don’t eat my feelings Jumbo.   Tell me, did your mother say you were the best kisser in the third grade?  I only ask because I am lost trying to figure out where all this anger towards women is coming from.  I was sitting her minding my own business, what compelled you to come over and be my choir instructor? And also, what are you even doing at this bar?’

“I ain’t got to have a reason to come to this joint, that’s on me”

“I’m not saying that I am not loving THAT  body, ALL OVER THIS BAR… But my question is, did you not see or understand the sign that reads “KAREOKE” (envision finger quotes) outside? Because clearly, you are pissed off that “karaoke” wasn’t slang for “all you can eat buffet”.… And p.s., I don’t see you up there singing a tune, from your arrogance I’m guessing that you are a real Louis Armstrong”. 

“Well all I AM saying is you ain’t shit”, he backfired

“Wow, the grammar, I love it”

“You acting all high and mighty, what you got baby girl?”

“Ill tell you what I don’t have cowboy, is a stellar watch like the one your “wowing”(envision air quotes) us with this evening. To be honest with you hun,  I can barely keep up with this conversation; I’m just so distracted by the 300 cubic circonias encircling that timepiece of yours.   I was just telling my friend over here how much I admire it.   Jessica, don’t you love it? “

“THESE ARE REAL,,,,REAL!!!!!!  You ain’t even know me boo boo, I’m Tyson.  I got two businesses baaaaayby!!!  You know Tyson car wash on 71rst? Well I’m Tyson bitch!”

“Look, I want to apologize Tyson,  I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were chubby or offend you.   I respect your curves and would be elated just for the chance to maybe motor boat you later?  You are a man with goals, and it is obvious that you know how to detail a car, so really I am the one who should be embarrassed, right?  Jessica, would you like to bear hug our new friend Tyson?  He owns a car wash, and I have a feeling that with a little  romantic courtship on your behalf Jess, you could become his trophy wife.  Tyson, should I start singing you two some Al Green to set the mood???”

He walked away cursing up a storm, and Jessica brought me a drink as I texted my father who typically thinks my immaturity is comical. His simple response was, “You are eventually going to get your teeth knocked in, and I’m not going to pay for it”. 

Right before we left I sang one last round of karaoke, I was seeking Tyson’s approval and as usual “couldn’t let it go”.   I approached the microphone, and jittery with nerves; I whispered slowly, “This one is for my dear friend Tyson, and his lovely lady lumps”.  As I ended the night belting out Vanilla Ice’s infamous “ice ice baby”, Jessica waited out front with her engine running, bored with my predictability.