They tried to make me go to rehab

First things first, karaoke is a tremendously enjoyable pastime. I should know; I spent much of my childhood locked in my bedroom with my karaoke machine and stacks of cassettes to go along with it. Admittedly, I have not done a lot of public karaoke in my life. After all, it comes with the expectation of heavy drinking and making a fool of oneself, and I am a showoff. Who cannot sing while drunk.

(At least I think I cannot sing while drunk. But maybe I just can't assess my singing accurately while drunk. Hmm...)

Turns out, drinking heavily and making a fool of oneself isn't such a bad thing. Besides, when the venue for said karaoke is such a dive that some regulars don't have any teeth, and others seem to be legitimately mentally handicapped, you don't really have to worry about losing face. You can get totally wasted, stumble up to the stage, and belt out your best "They tried to make me go to rehab, I said no no no" - is there a better song to sing on the heels of two scorpion bowls and an amaretto sour? Rest assured, everyone will be behind you 100 percent, no matter how horrible you sound. I did all of these things, and let me tell you, it was strangely liberating and I cannot wait to do it again.

Secondly, I loved sushi last night almost as much as I loved catching up with old friends and acquaintances - we all must make an effort to hang out far more often (at least those of us who don't live in various former Yugoslavian nations and aren't busy training for the Olympics and such).

Lastly, I absolutely, positively am on the edge of my seat waiting for this weekend and our girls-only trip to Philly! I've got my quart-sized see-through plastic bag, a seriously foxy pair of red patent leather heels, and an appetite for some hearty Amish fare. I am ready to run up the steps of the art museum Rocky-style (probably not in the aforementioned heels) and get me a bargain or two in the basement of the Anthropologie flagship. You can keep the Liberty Bell and the Mint, I'm ready to party.

(Although I secretly really want to go to that museum of medical oddities that has like, a five-foot long human colon and a gallery of things that have been removed from people's stomachs. It sounds delightfully gross. But I suspect that has already been vetoed by Jess, who is China in the United Nations Security Council of my yearning to see some diseased skin. Sigh.)