Karaoke Crooner

Hello children, gather around the ol’ laptop it’s story time.

These past 8 months I have been making a conscious decision of trying to be an actual social human being (no more blogging in the basement for me!). It is true that mostly this involves me going places and then standing around playing on my phone, but still I have made great strides. I have met some pretty awesome people (you) and some people who are not so awesome (someone else), but either way they have left me with quite a few stories to tell.

The third time I ever went to the homosexual dance institution just so happened to be Karaoke night. I had already decided that OCH was a decent enough place to hang. It has a sports bar, pool, and darts…pretty much all I need to survive.

I entered the bar and instantly felt stupid because the doorman recognized me already and didn’t feel the need to check my ID anymore. This made me both feel like a barfly and old at the same time. After further delusional consideration I came to the conclusion that they probably don’t check P. Diddy for ID either (I got swagga like that). Anyway…entering the bar I realized it was karaoke night and as with most things in the gay world, I was both intensely horrified and completely intrigued.

I had always wanted to do karaoke and I figured this was another good step in me getting out of the “Comfort Zone” which is a lot like the “Twilight Zone” but with more pillows and less vampires. I made my way to the bartender which I thought was the cutest and ordered myself a diet coke…which he charged me for! This was really throwing a wrench into my “I’m just like P. Diddy” delusion…I was trying to give the bartender my mean mug but his smile was like sunshine and I ended up tipping him 2 dollars for a $1.50 diet coke (you win this round).

Now that I had my drink I needed to find a place to lurk. I had learned from past mistakes and ruled out the inviting dark corner next to the garbage can. Instead I went and stood by the karaoke book and pretended to look up songs. As I stood there casually thumbing through the songs a large man with a truly epic mustache and beard got up and sang “Like a Virgin” by Madonna. With my first choice of song taken (jk) I decided to go with “Say it Ain’t So” by Weezer. I knew all the words plus I wreck at it on Rockband. I handed in my song to the DJ and then ran into the sports bar to get away from the onslaught of show tunes that followed.

Eventually my name was called and I boldly made my way to stage (walk soft carry a big stick). As the
music started I realized I was more nervous than I thought, as I looked down my leg quivered. Luckily it looked more like I was dancing than being a little girl so it worked in my favor. I sang my bacon clogged heart out as the familiar words scrolled across the screen. As I sang this random lady snuck up behind me and squeezed my butt(hands to yourself!). It startled me for a moment but I soldiered on. After finishing I didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone but I heard what sounded like a roar of approval (in other words one guy clapped). Fortunately I had made a fan while I was on stage; unfortunately he happened to be a homeless man who had snuck into the bar. For some reason I was unable to find the words to tell him to bugger off. It didn’t help that he was very polite and was so far the most interaction I had encountered at the gay bar. He first started with a complement, telling me I was by far his favorite singer of the night. I’d like to say I’m above flattery but I’m really not. From there conversation was all downhill. He explained to me in the most lucid of tones how he was happy that he was finally off all his medication (conversation starter). Well not ALL his medication. He was still “taking” weed. Which he prescribed himself (he’s not just CEO of crazy, he’s a client). He was now going to start a website dedicated to his weed business (all about networking). He was also looking for people to move to Hawaii with him so he could start growing weed in the jungle. It all made perfect sense if you were a homeless man who happened to be off his medication, I was rather skeptical.