Red-face express
Although I have no clear idea what I've done to create this impression, I get the notion that some people think I'm...special. Not Hallmark special, but helmet-and-drool-cup special. Point, stare, and whisper special.
The people who live right behind me are on that list now, I'm pretty sure.
When I paint, I plug my iPod into that little jukebox dealio with the disco lights on it and let my paintbrush shake its groove thang to the impressively loud music that comes out of those tiny speakers. It's kind of a trancelike state for me, when the painting and the music are working together just right, but instead of speaking in tongues, I often realize after the fact that I've been singing along with the music at the top of my lungs. Because I can probably find plenty of other ways to antagonize my neighbors, I make sure that my windows are shut when I'm in painting, or I at least close my paint studio/bedroom door. My bedroom is in the back of the house, with only the master bath behind it.
Saturday, it was a little chilly, so I had the windows closed for a change. I went about my painting as usual, with a new playlist going, and actually started consciously singing along. There were about four songs in a row that are more or less in my range, and I was having at it with great gusto. I even tried out a relatively new song for me, one that requires a bit of stretching, a little jumping through hoops vocally on my part. I'm gettin' there, but it's not quite perfect. But since I was closed in the house all by myself, I figured that was exactly the time to belt it out, kinks or no.
Then I realized why it was still so chilly.
Around the end of the newish song's last chorus, it dawned on me that I'd left the window open in the bathroom, right behind me. Granted, it's a teeny, itty bitty window, maybe big enough to facilitate the escape of your illicit lover, if he or she is a toy poodle, but still - it's big enough for my bellowing to carry quite clearly. The neighbor's house is not all that far past that window.
Maybe I'll leave a package of earplugs on their porch.
The people who live right behind me are on that list now, I'm pretty sure.
When I paint, I plug my iPod into that little jukebox dealio with the disco lights on it and let my paintbrush shake its groove thang to the impressively loud music that comes out of those tiny speakers. It's kind of a trancelike state for me, when the painting and the music are working together just right, but instead of speaking in tongues, I often realize after the fact that I've been singing along with the music at the top of my lungs. Because I can probably find plenty of other ways to antagonize my neighbors, I make sure that my windows are shut when I'm in painting, or I at least close my paint studio/bedroom door. My bedroom is in the back of the house, with only the master bath behind it.
Saturday, it was a little chilly, so I had the windows closed for a change. I went about my painting as usual, with a new playlist going, and actually started consciously singing along. There were about four songs in a row that are more or less in my range, and I was having at it with great gusto. I even tried out a relatively new song for me, one that requires a bit of stretching, a little jumping through hoops vocally on my part. I'm gettin' there, but it's not quite perfect. But since I was closed in the house all by myself, I figured that was exactly the time to belt it out, kinks or no.
Then I realized why it was still so chilly.
Around the end of the newish song's last chorus, it dawned on me that I'd left the window open in the bathroom, right behind me. Granted, it's a teeny, itty bitty window, maybe big enough to facilitate the escape of your illicit lover, if he or she is a toy poodle, but still - it's big enough for my bellowing to carry quite clearly. The neighbor's house is not all that far past that window.
Maybe I'll leave a package of earplugs on their porch.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 4:38 PM
12 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
Everybody's neighbors are weird. Might as well live up to the expectation.
Hah! Kalki!
What were you singing?
Inquiring minds need to know.
:)
I just gave up, when the windows were all open as the air conditioner wasn't in yet, and sang at the top of my lungs anyway. I just tried not to sing anything that had really racy lyrics as there are children in the neighborhood.
I'm not even going to read the post, just wanted to thank you for the giggle that the banner gave me.
*imagines Bucky singing "I like big butts"*
That nosy kid neighbour of yours is going to think you are a rock star in hiding working on her new comeback album. He'll be over with loads of friends asking for autographs. Just you wait
I'd love to hear you sing whilst you paint. I'm sure the neighbours will adjust!
Bucky. I've heard you sing. I seriously doubt they would mind that much.
My neighbors would probably set fire to my house if they heard me singing.
Kalki - I just don't feel like I'm doing my part to live up to the trailer park experience. Maybe I should sit on my porch with a shotgun.
HTGT - she funny, huh?
M_D - I know some of the songs were Black Stone Cherry Hell or High Water, Anthony Gomes High-Calorie Woman, and the new one that's still giving me fits is Amy Winehouse You Know I'm No Good.
Squirl - Yeah, but I'll bet you sang songs where you KNOW you can hit all the notes!
Mr. B - I queefed, just for you. And how did you know I'm a Sir Mix-a-Lot devotee?
Kranki - I'd better put a bouncer at the stage door.
Platypus - be careful what you wish for, because once you hear me sing, your brain will never be the same again.
CKelli - I'm sure your neighbors wouldn't set fire to your house if you sang. They would probably only tar and feather you - I mean, no need to punish your kids for YOUR singing, right? ;)
Ahahahaha! Thanks for that. And uh, are we going to get more pics of the art? Because that would kind of rule even more than the new masthead.
Now, Bucky, a REAL rebel wouldn’t give a damn about what the neighbors think.
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