Nobody Warned Me About My Panties

Humor:"Somebody get Homeland Security on the horn. I have been terrorized. Who knew that karaoke was more deadly than second-hand smoke? It could be classified as a Weapon of Mass Destruction. If I had been holding a ball-point, I would have plunged it directly into my own brain. (The lobotomy is very under-rated.) My last lucid words would have been, "Honey, get me a lap-robe and a drool cup." It started out innocently enough. Tony the Boyfriend and I met at an "undisclosed location." (Dick Cheney was eerily absent.) We were still in the parking lot, when I heard this ... sound. I would describe this ... sound, but, I can't. It was indescribable. It made Fingernails on a Chalkboard my new favorite song. Why we continued on and went in, I will never know. I guess it was the allure of the cocktail. Inside, that ... sound was louder. The bartender took our order and asked, with great concern, if I was alright. I said, "Excuse me, I'm just passing a kidney stone. I think the sound waves broke it up." Now, don't get me wrong. There are some fine karaoke performers out there, so before the Karaoke Enthusiasts of Pocatello (K.E.P.) "Hit Me With Their Best Shot," I say right now, "I salute you. I enjoy you. You're hunky-freakin'-dory." But, Good Lord, why would you encourage the totally tone-deaf with enthusiastic applause? (Sorry. I meant the Melodically Challenged.) Aren't we supposed to tell friends when they have a hunk of green stuff in their teeth? What about an open fly? What about a goober? Ohhh ... it happens and you know it. Only the Melodically Challenged are left behind. Sally Struthers could do an infomercial. (She probably needs the work.) "...You can help the Melodically Challenged for only 60 cents a day. Less than a cup of coffee ..." If only Sally had been in my corner that one day. That one terrible day. I was running late. I grabbed my pink fleece jacket out of the dryer, slammed it on and I was off like a shot. I went to the Common Cents for gas, Waremart for limes. I went to four or five other places before I got to the bank. Oh, yeah. I was talking to people and carrying on (but I kept thinking, 'What is going on with my back??! What is that on my back??!') and was in a huge rush. I was standing in line at the bank when I felt something fall off my back. Instinctively, I looked down. There ... on the floo ... lay my date-night panties. They had been plastered to my back the whole time due to static cling. Take a moment now, break into individual study groups and try to imagine the level my mortification. My Lord, how many people had seen my date-night panties??!!! And they have video surveillance at the bank!!! It all was very, very terrible. I became a big fan of dryer sheets that afternoon, but the most disturbing part was that nobody told me I had panties on my back. Not one person was my friend that day. A real friend is supposed to tell you. Which brings us back to: Friends don't let Melodically Challenged Friends Sing Karaoke. I want to see bumper stickers. Take it, Sally! "Thank you, Pammy. And, thanks to everyone for joining me today on this special edition of 'Shut Up!' (Going to camera two.) Every 30 seconds, somewhere in the world, someone plunges a ball-point pen directly into their own brain. (Let's go to camera three.) Please ... Help the Non-Tone-Deaf .. .before it's too late. Back to you, Pam." Thanks, Sal. And if I ever see you with panties on your back, I'll tell you, because I want to be a good friend. That Is All."

Pamela Petty is the former owner of the Backstage Bar in Pocatello, and she writes a letter to the Pocatello News-paper about twice a month and they are always funny and worth the time it takes to read them, they make you laugh I feel. Hope you enjoy her stuff as much as I do..