On the Drink of Disaster

True story.
The problem with doing karaoke in a bar, is that generally you're expected to order something. Now, contrary to popular belief, I'm not much of a drinker. Steady yourself. I know, gentle reader, the shocking truth is that most of the stupid stuff I do, I do completely sober. So when I do go to a bar, I try to surround myself with other light-weight girly men for camouflage. But eventually, like zebras pacing the watering hole, one of us has to go up and order something. Last time, there were only two of us and it was my turn to test the waters for crocodiles. My buddy says, "Get me a Miller Lite." Great. No hiding out on the savanna. So I go up to the bar and order a manly Miller Lite and an equally masculine Mike's HARD lemonade. Oh yeah, feel that testosterone pumping. The bartender has obviously been trained well and remains stoic, but my spindly legs are poised and ready to bolt at as soon as the glass hits the counter. That's when one of the local lions lifted his large head and groggily starts to shake off his stupor. His eyes scan the surroundings and his nose goes up. He smells fear nearby, but he hasn't honed in on it yet. The bartender comes around with my drinks which tell every predator around that I won't put up much of a fight, and just as he reaches me, the lion's pupils widen and snap into focus.

"Excuse me..." he says with lazy calm. "Don't take this the wrong way, but one of those drinks is for a girl, right?"
"No," I say, exposing myself as the prey that I am. It's not like I can run at this point anyway.
"Oh, Jeez dude, I'm sorry. I just read somewhere that Mike's is one of the most popular drinks among women." The lion recklessly and effectively swats his large paws in my direction.
"That's mine." I look back at my herd longingly as this guy verbally chews my limbs off.
"Really? No offense man, really. I just assumed that one of those HAD to be for a girl." His head goes back down. The kill complete. I drag my bloodied carcass back to our table and explain to my friend how it was his stupid Miller Lite that made me look like a lady.
We did get the last laugh though. The lion was really bad at karaoke, but we told him he was good. Take THAT! You may be King of the jungle, but your roar sounds like crap.

Meanwhile, from the 'Becoming what you detest' department:
Up until last Saturday, I had been in a Starbucks exactly once in my life. I was carpooling and was not the driver. I had no choice, I don't even remember if I ordered anything. But in the last week, I have gone to Starbucks *4* times. What's wrong with me? I feel dirty. And on top of it all, I liked it. That's right, you heard me. I LIKED IT! I'm a Chai tea chump and apparently will pay over 3 dollars for a 'tall.' I hate myself.

And as a total non-sequitor, let me tell you why I think this seemingly innocuous picture makes me laugh. It's a shot from our living room, and granted not one of the most flattering. Study it carefully. Note the pile of dirty dishes and half finished knitting project. This my friends, is exactly what my living room would look like if my wife were suddenly vaporized. Well, except the lid wouldn't be on the peanut butter, but otherwise it's dead on. Don't worry folks, it's just a simulation. Chris is JUST FINE.