Anxiety Alleviator #3: Playing the Cowbell

Only with less chest hair

This was me recently after crashing a party and hopping on stage with the band. I don’t know how I ended up with a drumstick in my right hand and a fifth plastic cup of red wine in my left, but I do know that I rocked that cowbell like I rocked that party. After the first song I was mixing in the symbol, the maracas, a little tambourine action, and some sweet Napoleon Dynamite moves that I’m quite thankful no one I know has video of. I didn’t realize I was black, but apparently I not only know all the words to random songs popularized by your average cover band, but I’ve got the rhythm, man. I’ve been waiting to discover my special purpose since the first time I saw The Jerk and it seems I’ve finally found it. I’m off to drum practice. If anyone is looking for a professional cowbellist, I’m your special lady.