Weekly karaoke weather report

Tonight will be an unprecedented three trips to karaoke this week. I’m really enjoying myself too much. Especially since now I’m starting to run into more people I know and can legitimately hang-out with, rather than being just a hanger-on.

Wednesday at Bud’s was fun, but I froze my ass off and spent Thursday and Friday morning feeling like I was going to be sick. Bud’s is this little bar at the corner of Egypt and Park/Pawlings. There was a fireplace in the front room (where the pool table used to be about six years ago) and, I swear, it was the only heat in the joint. Everyone would take turns huddling around it until their pants got so hot they had to move. I really opened up my repertoire there, doing “New Orleans is Sinking” by The Tragically Hip, “New Year’s Day” by U2 and “You Are the Sunshine of my Life” by Stevie Wonder. Someone kept pinching my ass during “Sunshine.” I don’t even wanna know.

Friday night at Mad Anthony’s was a hoot. Huey’s girlfriend Janet was there and I got to hang out and chat with her. Huey and I split two games of pool, but then the place got too busy for that to go on. I did “Come Fly with Me” for the first time, but didn’t hit it very well because there were people talking right next to me and I couldn’t hear the music to get the key. Some of the karaoke mixes are cut to be as short as possible, so the intro and instrumental sections are very short. This seems to be especially true for ‘classics’ like the Sinatra and Darin tunes. Before I sang “Jet Airliner” at the end of the night, three women sort of took over the mic. Huey and Mike (the karaoke DJ’s) turned over the dirty work to me, after the song they were singing ended I gently introduced myself and asked if they would mind if I sang a song. They asked if I was security. I should have said yes and asked for room numbers, but I’m just too nice a guy to take advantage of situations like that. Not so nice that thought wouldn’t cross my mind, though. 😛 So, I get them offstage, and this drunk-off-his-gourd guy swoops right into the vacuum and grabs the other mic. He’s got an apologetic friend on his heels, but the drunk guy seems intent on doing another tune that he can neither sing, nor read the words to, but I roll with it. So, his friend and I both put an arm around him (to keep him from swaying back and forth into us) and we sing The Steve Miller Band. It was a good night.

I’m still hoping to see people I’ve met there, but not run into since, so I’ll be stopping by tonight. If it’s lame, I have my backup plan.

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