birthday eve
A couple nights ago was my Birthday Eve, and Clara and my roommate Emmy took me out for karaoke at el Bar de los Stars. It had been a long time since I’d done karaoke, and of course I’d like to blame that in part on the fact that (my now former live-in boyfriend) Hunter, as an ex-cooler-than-thou – and thou, and thou, and thou - record store clerk, eschewed All Things Karaoke. But the truth is during those three years, I still could’ve gone out and sung along to a synthesized drum-beat if I’d wanted to. However, having a new pal who’s equally into the fake rock-star cheesiness, just makes it easier to do so. It’s one of the rules of karaoke: You can’t pick a slow, sad song, nor can you karaok, (a perfectly viable verb), alone. These are just my rules; I realize you probably leave not a dry eye as you rock the melancholy karaoke tunes all by your lonesome every night, but I like to have back-up friends in the crowd and keep the beat comin’, so.
So, it would seem that the Star Bar likes to concentrate its greatest onstage talent in one evening, because it turned out amateur stand-up night immediately preceded the fake rock-star’ing. We got there around nine, and and that’s when the guy on the phone had told Clara it would finish up. So we got drinks and stood around while a guy onstage told jokes about New York versus The South. It felt very weird because I’d just finished watching an actually-funny David Cross DVD, before coming out. So the next guy came on and he talked about how no women will sleep with him. By the time the fourth guy or so was on, waxing - originally, as you might imagine - about Certain Sexual Acts with menstruating women, I idly picked up a tabletop placard. It said the laff-fest would actually go until 10:30. Just then, Fear of the Red Tide Guy seized his advantage of spotlight and microphone and started attempting to hit on my roommate Emmy, from the stage.
And well, we left.
Spent the rest of the night at a bar down the street that, besides the obvious advantage, also featured french fries. And now I’m wondering: It was all men who showed up to participate in the open-mic stand-up thing, and I’m venturing to wager that just about all the women there were waiting around for the karaoke. Is this the Star Bar’s idea of a mixer? Does it work? Shudder.
As long as we’re on the birthday topic, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my awesome friend, my oldest friend in the A-N-T-A (cool kids are sayin’ it), for the best birthday present ever: A real, honest-to-beautiful-goodness cowboy hat from Mexico. Thank you thank you! I’m gonna find a way to wear it at all times. Yeehaw!
A couple nights ago was my Birthday Eve, and Clara and my roommate Emmy took me out for karaoke at el Bar de los Stars. It had been a long time since I’d done karaoke, and of course I’d like to blame that in part on the fact that (my now former live-in boyfriend) Hunter, as an ex-cooler-than-thou – and thou, and thou, and thou - record store clerk, eschewed All Things Karaoke. But the truth is during those three years, I still could’ve gone out and sung along to a synthesized drum-beat if I’d wanted to. However, having a new pal who’s equally into the fake rock-star cheesiness, just makes it easier to do so. It’s one of the rules of karaoke: You can’t pick a slow, sad song, nor can you karaok, (a perfectly viable verb), alone. These are just my rules; I realize you probably leave not a dry eye as you rock the melancholy karaoke tunes all by your lonesome every night, but I like to have back-up friends in the crowd and keep the beat comin’, so.
So, it would seem that the Star Bar likes to concentrate its greatest onstage talent in one evening, because it turned out amateur stand-up night immediately preceded the fake rock-star’ing. We got there around nine, and and that’s when the guy on the phone had told Clara it would finish up. So we got drinks and stood around while a guy onstage told jokes about New York versus The South. It felt very weird because I’d just finished watching an actually-funny David Cross DVD, before coming out. So the next guy came on and he talked about how no women will sleep with him. By the time the fourth guy or so was on, waxing - originally, as you might imagine - about Certain Sexual Acts with menstruating women, I idly picked up a tabletop placard. It said the laff-fest would actually go until 10:30. Just then, Fear of the Red Tide Guy seized his advantage of spotlight and microphone and started attempting to hit on my roommate Emmy, from the stage.
And well, we left.
Spent the rest of the night at a bar down the street that, besides the obvious advantage, also featured french fries. And now I’m wondering: It was all men who showed up to participate in the open-mic stand-up thing, and I’m venturing to wager that just about all the women there were waiting around for the karaoke. Is this the Star Bar’s idea of a mixer? Does it work? Shudder.
As long as we’re on the birthday topic, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my awesome friend, my oldest friend in the A-N-T-A (cool kids are sayin’ it), for the best birthday present ever: A real, honest-to-beautiful-goodness cowboy hat from Mexico. Thank you thank you! I’m gonna find a way to wear it at all times. Yeehaw!
posted by Alice at 5:47 PM
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