Only In Maine...

When you grow up in Maine, it is common that you trek out back in the woods to cut down your Christmas tree every winter. The Demchak's were no exception and ever since I can remember, that is how we did it. And even after the kids moved out of the house, that is still how my parents, John and Rhoda do it. Last weekend, the two of them bundled up in their L.L. Bean gear, hopped in the truck and drove out back in the woods to cut down the Christmas tree. Once they found a good spot, my parents jumped out of the truck, (my dad holding the chainsaw and my mom peeing her pants laughing) and made their way through the woods to find that special tree. My dad was leading the way, chopping through the tree limbs that were in their way with the chainsaw, trying to get to that perfect tree.

Once my dad would see that glimmering pine tree destined for the living room, he would cut down the 75 footer, watch it fall, then cut off the top that would fit in the house. After a few pines went timber and my parents shunned the so called 'Charlie Brown' trees, they found the perfect one that would be ideal for the Demchak house. My mom, still peeing her pants, watched as my dad strapped the trees to the back of the truck with chains. The two found the perfect tree and not to be wasteful, a few others to use in the dining room and maybe even to make a wreath. Only in Maine....

A Sticky Situation

Two months ago, I had my friend Nicole put long, blonde extensions in my hair. I thought I would try something new because I know that my hair does not grow past my shoulders. I would never be able to have long, thick blonde hair without the help of false hair. I absolutely loved the extensions until I naturally got sick of them and they started to come out a little on the side of my head. Instead of acting like a normal person and waiting for Nicole to take them out of my hair properly, I decided to rip them out myself. After the first two I realized my mistake and when Anthony came into the bathroom and told me to wait for Nicole, I simply told him, "I'm in too deep babe!"

After almost an hour later and a bathtub drain full of real hair, I had them all out. While I slathered the leave-in conditioner in my hair and covered it with my shower cap, I thought, wow- that actually was easy! Who cares if I only have a few strands of hair left, all the extensions are out! I was feeling good until I rinsed the conditioner out and realized that even though the actual extensions were gone, the glue that held them in still remained in globs in my matted hair. Panicked, I asked Nicole what I should do and after she scolded me, she said that I needed a hair extension glue remover from Sally's Beauty Supply (which of course was already closed). I decided to Google at-home remedies to removing hair extension glue and at this moment I am sitting on the couch with my head drenched in olive oil thinking about how I would look with a short bob. Oops!

Viva Las Vegas

For anyone who has ever sang karaoke unwillingly and actually got nervous, I will let you in on a secret...alcohol calms it all. Last weekend I went to Las Vegas with Anthony and his family and after a night of drinking, we found ourselves at Yolo's, a Mexican restaurant/karaoke bar inside of Planet Hollywood. Anthony's sister Sarah urged her friend Christina and I to sing and after an unsuccessful attempt at finding a song in the giant song binder that lists every song in the history of songs (who has time for that?) we decided on a little diddy that I already knew by heart. One of my hidden talents (that's the only one I can think of right now besides opening a champagne bottle with a knife) is being able to belt out all of the words to Salt N' Pepa's "Shoop"on cue. I figured that would be the perfect song to get the crowd going in Vegas, right? Although Christina said she wasn't familiar with the lyrics, I told her not to worry and that all we needed was some liquid courage and the support of Sarah, her husband Paul, Anthony and his mom. Besides, I could hold down the fort and she would just need to chime in on the chorus. Piece of cake!

When the announcer called our names, I finished my drink and walked confidently up to the microphone. I was a little nervous when I noticed that there were a group of black ladies in the front row and hoped that they wouldn't heckle us for rapping and boo us off the stage. When the music started, we began to sing and surprisingly, the black ladies in the front were actually cheering us on, dancing and taking pictures of us rapping. Everything was going great until Paul got up front to cheer us on and stood directly in front of the monitor that displayed the lyrics. We fumbled a bit, started awkwardly dancing and improvising, then got our shit together and recovered. 

What we didn't realize about the song though was there was way more chorus than actual lyrics which led to about 10 minutes straight of us repeating "Shoop, shoop-a-doop, shoop-a-doop, shoop-a-doop-a-doop-a-doop." Oh well, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?