The other night I was watching some people do karaoke when I felt someone lean in beside me and I heard this guy say, “It looks like karaoke makes you sad.” I said, “It’s not so much that it makes me sad, it just makes me introspective.” How do I really feel about karaoke?

To me watching someone do karaoke is kind of like watching someone masturbate. It’s often uncomfortable and awkward. That’s really something you need to be doing in the privacy of your own home, behind closed doors, either in your room, the shower, or in a sock. I’ve been caught singing to a sock.

Well, worse than watching a loved one sing karaoke with all of the passion and none of the talent, was the time I caught a friend of mine masturbating, a girlfriend who I hadn’t seen in a long time. I guess she was excited to see me. It was so strange because it was around the holidays and I think we all know that’s not the time to be masturbating, in the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season. Anyway, I was heading over to visit her and to see her baby. I pull in the driveway, walk up to the door, which was wide open, and knock on the screen door. No answer. I wait a while, knock some more, still no answer. I decide to let myself in. After all, this is my childhood friend from the neighborhood. I’m in the house, I call out her name as I look down the hall to the bedroom and there she is, legs hanging over the bed, hand between her legs, moving in rapid fire motion. She doesn’t hear me cause she’s yelling out her name too. Then it hits me and I realize all this time I’ve been masturbating the wrong way! I’m supposed to be calling out my own name. Of course, that makes perfect sense.

But honestly, it was one of those moments that happened so fast I thought, that can’t possibly be what I think I just saw. But the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and the sense of panic that sent me running out the door I wish I never walked in, tells me something very different. It tells me that my instincts are right on. And that, no I’m not seeing things. So now I’m standing on the porch frozen, wondering if I should make a dash for the car, peel out, and call it a day. Would that be totally rude? Rude? Give me a break. What was she thinking? Hmmm, Deb’s on her way. I’ve got just enough time to tidy up, change the baby’s diaper, and masturbate…with my door wide open.

I mean I think we’ve all been there. There have been times that I’m sooo turned on by myself I just can’t take anymore. Next thing I know, regardless of what the plan is, my pants are off.

As all this is racing through my mind she shows up at the door. My window of opportunity is gone. Her face is flushed, reconfirming my fears. My face is also red but not for the same reason. She invites me in and you know what happens next, tension fills the room and there are just a lot of question marks floating around the air. We both know exactly what happened but neither of us is willing to acknowledge it. Instead we sit down and she shows me Timothy’s Christmas pictures, the angel ornaments she made out of pasta and gave as gifts, and tells me how good her first pot roast came out the night before. And then it all suddenly becomes very clear to me just exactly why she was masturbating. And all is forgiven.