On Friday night I was hanging out in this sweat lodge smoking peyote and drinking beer with the Kaufmann Brothers--a tres sexy but little known vaudeville act--and the rest of the beautiful people surrounding Schadenfreude--when I got a hankering to sing karaoke. They weren't having it, so I filed the idea away for Saturday. I did get an interesting offer involving a futon and chocolate sauce though.
So Saturday I met up with some friends made a few weeks back when a pal and I crashed a speed dating event shitfaced and nookin for nub. The PBR had lost its luster at CANS, and since I put the night together I decided I could boss everyone.
"Let's go to Louie's!"
I got a collective, "uh, ok." So off we went. As we made our way there (the whining four blocks can cause!) my mind started to race. Hmmm. What to sing. What to sing. Madonna? No, too obvious. Frank Sinatra? Only if they have Summer Wind. Earlier that day I was belting out Elton John's Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me alone in my apartment, but changed it to Just Let Your Son Go Down on Me. I got quite a laugh off of that. Several times a day I can't believe how funny I am. Seriously. What a bit would that be!
So we get in the bar, I go to the list and there's no Elton John. But I find a Stevie Wonder song I like.
"For Once in My Life, please!" I tell the bartender.
"You want to sing now?" My eagerness apparently was evident.
"No, I need some time to prepare."
A few songs later, I was up. And I rocked, of course. Actually I kind of rapped. Strange. This guy got up and helped me out a bit, urging me to "TAKE IT HOME!" toward the end of the song.
And boy did I ever.