I Had Fun Once And It Was Awful

Okay, folks, buckle up. I need to tell you something, and it’s a confession. A dark, sparkly, glitter-covered confession. I… I had fun once.

The Horror, The Horror!

Yes, you heard right. Genuine, Grade-A, laugh-so-hard-your-sides-hurt fun. And let me tell you, it was awful.

It started innocently enough. A friend, bless her well-meaning but ultimately misguided heart, suggested a karaoke night. Karaoke! My brain immediately flashed warning signs in neon pink.

I usually spend my evenings perfecting the art of blanket burrito-ing and watching documentaries about competitive cheese sculpting. But, peer pressure, you know? I caved.

The Descent into Madness (aka Karaoke)

We arrived at the karaoke bar, which was already pulsating with questionable music choices and the faint aroma of desperation. I clutched my water glass like it was a life raft.

The first few singers… well, let’s just say they were enthusiastic. Let's call them the brave, not necessarily the talented. But they were having a blast. Alarm bells were ringing in my brain.

Then my friend, the instigator, signed me up. For “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Yes, the six-minute opera rock anthem. She’s lucky I still talk to her.

My heart attempted to escape through my throat. I considered faking a sudden illness. Appendicitis? Spontaneous combustion?

The Unthinkable Happened

But then… the music started. I grabbed the microphone, closed my eyes, and just… sang. Screamed, maybe. But sang!

And here’s the really horrifying part. I started to enjoy it. I even did a little air guitar during the guitar solo! My inner critic, usually a snarling beast, was strangely silent.

People were clapping! Cheering! I even got a high-five from a guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a truly magnificent mustache.

It was… liberating. Exhilarating. Downright terrifying.

The Aftermath: A Soul-Searching Journey (to My Couch)

The rest of the night was a blur of off-key harmonies and questionable dance moves. I even attempted the Macarena. I know, I know, I should be ashamed.

I woke up the next morning with a sore throat, a slight hangover (water doesn't always protect you!), and a disturbing feeling of… happiness?

I spent the entire day on my couch, contemplating my life choices. Had I become… a fun person?

The thought was unsettling. My carefully curated routine of comfortable misery was threatened.

So, I did what any rational person would do. I immediately ordered three new documentaries about cheese. I needed to re-establish my equilibrium.

The point is, friends, be careful. Fun is a slippery slope. It can lead to unexpected adventures, uncomfortable situations, and possibly even… *gasp*… joy.

Stick to what you know. Embrace the mundane. And for the love of all that is holy, stay away from karaoke bars. You have been warned!

I’m off to watch competitive cheese sculpting. Wish me luck. I need to get my life back on track.