You think with all the beer I drank last night I would be completely dehydrated and skinny, but this freakin corset is totally cutting into my sides and giving me a real un-ladylike set of muffintops. Good thing I’m wearing a wig for the gig today, because at some point last night I must have decided to chew three pieces of gum and then stick them into my hair as an accessory. I can’t drink the Buds with Lime anymore, they just make me do totally unreasonable and out of character (pun intended) things. I know for some people tequila is their Achilles heel, for others it’s flavored vodka, but Buds with Lime just keep flowing down my throat and taste like mother’s milk. Plus no one else drinks them at the park and they make me feel kind of unique and special.
And of all nights to do something like this, I have to choose the night before a free day to get totally plastered and sing awful karaoke to the Glee soundtrack. So now my voice is totally shot, and I don’t think my boss will be too happy when Ariel can only croak out sections of “Part of That World,” and warble that creepy song when Urusla steals her (my voice, I need to start getting in character) voice. The guests always love that part, which has always been the most disturbing part of the character to me. Sure, I’ll sell my voice for a man! That’s empowering, right? Although that’s basically when I did last night, trying to impress that townie at the bar with my rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing.” I thought we had a connection when he bought me that final Bud Lime, but then he left with the bitch who plays Belle and understudies Snow White and I was left to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by myself. I guess I’m too used to the fairy tale version of relationships.