You Won't Aca-Believe My Car Singing Skills

It's the cool summer breeze that ignites all of the car singers to burst into song when the perfect tune is on and the feeling is right. There is nothing better than a 65 degree night, driving on the highway back home and your flavor of the week-song comes on, in my recent case, the Cup Song. Oh yes, I love and have perfected the cup song and if I get Jake to amuse me, he will sing while I play it on a red solo. I get pretty nasty. But if he isn't around and the song comes on during my car ride home, I can sing it just as well as Bella...or I'd like to think so. Sing-a-longs like Pitch Perfect and Frozen brings out the inner Whitney in me and there is no stopping me during car rides.

Speaking of Frozen sing-a-longs, aren't the videos of dads singing with their daughters in the car the CUTEST? #ican't 

The car is like the perfect incubator for what seems to be amazing vocals coming from your mouth that otherwise are not present. With nobody around to judge, nothing will stop you get the high-note— an E5 — at the end of "Take On Me" by the 1980's Norwegian band, A-Ha. I got that all day...

Well, I thought I could hit notes like that until I plugged one of my ears while doing so and that is when I realized how horrible I really am. Damn you, car. You made me think for a solid ten minutes that I could be the next biggest thing.

Sometimes, I think about if I had the vocals of an angel, how I would kill it at the talent show in high school and in turn, have made me more popular? #isthatweird ? When you went through four years alongside ladies like vChenay, it sure makes you dream. Power to you sistah! I'm rooting for you. 

I mustn't forget about Ariana Grande. Her voice could put me to sleep just like music does to a toddler. And when I put on Ariana Grande Pandora radio, it's a wrap. If you pull alongside of me I will be hardcore singing, way beyond the point of seriousness, with hand movements and complete air-instrument solos. You should see me when Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight" comes on. At your peak, you are made to believe that you can actually hit some of the high notes but it doesn't mean it will sound good. I guess getting best musician as my eighth grade superlative was pretty accurate.

Just kidding, that superlative means shit because playing the Xylophone got me that award, not my singing. Now I'm not kidding. I was one of the only girls in the percussion. At any rate, when you have a best friend who is a hella good singer who performs in musicals and makes catchy singles, it is hard to compare. I love you, Joe, but you kill my singing game in the car because you are way better than me. I'll just hand over the air-mic to you and doo-op and harmonize. Check him out by clicking here! 

In honor of #tbt, check out this throw back to 2008, my curly hair and first car, Myrtle. She made a 1995 Ford Escort my personal Radio City Music Hall auditorium. 

If car singing has taught me one thing, it would be improving my harmonzing skills because you can hum harmonies in the background and not sound as terrible next to your musically talented boyfriend or best friend. But when you're me, you are always with the two people that are closest to you who are both amazing singers. #bitchdontkillmyvibe. Click here to check out Jake's band, the Tai Chi Funk Squad. Laying down the funk and reggae ! 

You know you are besties with someone when you can sing along to a song you both love and not judge each other and even better, a carload of same-minded individuals. That gives ample opportunities for harmonies and solos because my girlfriends, for the most part, are just as good bad as me... sorry guys! 

One day, I hope to have a family that will sing along with me during a car ride and considering I am dating an insanely talented man from an insanely musically talented family, I think I have a pretty fair shot.

By the way, do yourself a favor and check out The Late Late Show with James Corden and his car karaoke skits, like this one or this one because it's amazeballs. 

I'm curious, what songs do you like to sing in the car?

Who me?! Panic?

Initially, this blog post was supposed to be another Average Girl's Guide post but I couldn't figure out how to guide someone else through agita (commonly known as anxiety in English) when I can't even get a grasp on it myself. Instead, I'll just talk about panic attacks and hope someone reading this can relate to my craziness. 

You know that shocking jolt in your chest followed by increased perspiration and your heart rate tripling? This my friends is the beginning stages of a panic attack and if you don't get it together within the next 3.5 seconds, you're done for. It goes without saying that I am a notorious freaker-outer.

For my fellow restaurant colleagues, we know this feeling all too well especially when you are in the middle of a Saturday night shit storm, you're so far in the weeds you can't think about your next task and then you realize you forgot to ring in a four-top table's order including a medium-well filet mignon. You just died. And when having to face the chef after ringing it in on the fly, you have to prepare yourelf for what they will call you because it's not going to be pretty...and you might cry after they go Gordon Ramsay on your ass.

It seems I get this excruciating pain too frequently and in situations that vary from not being able to find my iPhone in my Mary Poppins bag as soon as I get on the highway to thinking a tractor trailer will ram my car while trying to take a left turn or even forgetting to water my Bonsai tree with its weekly eight ice cube ritual. Needless to say, I have a problem and I'm not sure how to fix it.

I do, however, believe I am able to control the attacks a miniscule bit, mostly when I'm waitressing. Breathing does a world of wonders and I've realized to..... just..... remember..... to...... breathe...... It will all be over soon, hopefully. Also, having epilepsy, I need to try and keep calm as much as possible because I could throw myself into a seizure, and ain't nobody got time for that.

Last month, a pipe burst in the upstairs unit of my apartment and all I can say is a panic attack is an understatement for how I reacted. Water was rushing everywhere while Jake and I are scrambling trying to move and save our belongings before getting drenched in god knows what kind of contaminated water. It was like Niagara Falls in my apartment and was a sight to see. I was in my plush robe, hair a hot mess, one slipper on and slipping and falling in every spot of the apartment. I managed to get a huge scar on my foot which will definitely be a keeper.

Jake has been a huge help in calming down my nerves because after five years, he has learned how to help me during my childish freakouts. Thanks for putting up with my antics!

My brother took the liberty to get my twin sister and I books for Christmas which was a very nice gesture, and I thank him dearly, but it wouldn't be Ronnie if it wasn't a comical yet accurate gift. There was one clear difference: Samantha's was a "Keep Calm and Carry On" coffee table book while mine was "Now Panic and Freak Out." This is very fitting for the two of us because we are clearly polar opposites in the way we react in stressful situations. Don't let her fool you, Samantha can be just as crazy as me sometimes.

While sorting through the countless quotes from everyone between Jimi Hendrix and Al Gore, I found these two...

Looking back on my apartment debacle, I've learned to laugh at my actions because if not, someone will do it anyways, and in my case, it's most likely my brother because that's what big brothers are for. As for my panic attacks, I'd like to think I could conquer them but only time will tell. Until then, myself and the majority of Baffoni women will continue to be nervous Nancy's and panic about anxiety. 

This book did put me at ease, though, because it is comforting to know I'm not the only freaker-outer out there. As the Italian's say, agita should be my middle name.