RIP Whitney

I'm not even going to lie ... finding out about the tragic death of my ultimate favorite 80's singer, Whitney Houson, was devastating.  I will never forget how I found out ... I was working at the bar last night, preparing for what ended up being the busiest night of my bartending life.  Someone mentioned the name Whitney Houston (which, of course, cued me to give my perfected impression of Whitney shouting "BOBBAYYY" (circa 2005: Being Bobby Brown).  Then I heard that this was not typical beautiful, wonderful, exciting Whitney news ... Whitney, my beautiful songstress, had passed away.  I immediately felt terrible for speaking ill of the deceased (however, my impersonation of "BOBBAYYY" is spot on and will never cease to amuse me) ... too soon, self, too soon.

As I said, the bar was exceptionally busy, which was a welcomed distraction.  However, as soon as I found out the crushing news, I threw some money at a customer, and asked her to play some Whitney hits.  Unfortunately for my customers, I frequently play Whitney hits and delight the masses with my beautiful voice.  And by frequently, I mean nearly every night that I work.  And by my beautiful voice, I mean my beautiful voice.  I refuse to admit that I don't sound exactly like Whitney.

I've never seen the bar so swamped before.  The customers, while rough and tumble looking (it was an after-party for a local motorcycle show), were amazing and super fun.  And even more important, they were pretty good tippers.

Last night, I learned 3 major things:

1. Women are disgusting.  Utterly disgusting.  The ladies room at the bar literally made me dry heave when I attempted to clean the disgusting, disgusting mess (sorry for the visual, but I feel as though others should suffer along with me)
2. Tattoos on men will always reve my engine a little.  Young skinny little drunk scuzballs with tats everywhere ... thank you for giving me a nice visual while I was running around like chicken with her head cut off.  Yum.
3. Not everyone has the same passion that I feel for Whitney.  But I already knew this due to the moans and groans I would hear after playing a setlist of Whitney during an average work night.  But drunk people can be pretty cruel about her, and come on folks, someone died here.  And honestly, not just someone ... WHITNEY freaking HOUSTON!!  Ugh, my heart.

I finally got home around 3am (after the disgusting, disgusting cleaning).  After I eased my aching old body into bed, I flipped on the tv and what do I come across?  Non-stop Whitney music videos on VH1.  Sure, I was exhausted from serving hundreds of people solo at the bar and being on my feet for 10+ hours, but I had to mourn the only way I know how ... by singing Whitney at the top of my lungs at 4am.  Sorry, neighbors, it's part of the grieving process and I am entitled to it.

Thankfully, today I have no major plans, as I need to grieve, stuff my face, and watch the classic film Waiting to Exhale.  Whitney, in all seriousness, you were a beautiful, talented, powerful woman who was obviously in a lot of emotional pain.  I hope that you are in a better place and can sing with the angels.  While you do that, I will sing like an angel down here and torture the masses.

RIP Whitney Houston :(