I Was a Karaoke God Last Night

I went back and looked at the calendar to try and figure out the exact night that my mormon friend took me to karaoke for the first time. I think it was September 13. She asked me to go with her and she's such a fun gal, I couldn't refuse. I reluctantly agreed to actually participate by singing at least one song, but I told her I would mostly be there to clap for her. I was nervous of course. I think the first song I sang was "If I Only Had a Brain" from "The Wizard of Oz", and that's mainly because I know all the words. We sang Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" as a duet. We laughed and had such an incredible time. One of the most memorable performances was from some white guy who got up and sang "When Doves Cry" while two girls danced for him over on the side. It was like an improv comedy act. We laughed so hard that night. I could not believe how great a time I had. I was hooked from that night. I told a bunch of people from work about it. I couldn't stop talking about it for a week at least.

The following week, I went back. None of my friends were interested in going, so I went alone. I think I sang FIVE songs that night. And I realized that the more preposterous the song choice, the better. Johnny Cash and Elvis…..those are predictable song choices for me. But a week or two later, I realized Jackson Five and Prince songs are way funnier for a guy like me. I've sung a Jay Z song ("99 Problems") even. I thought Biz Markie's "Just a Friend" was off the charts, but I got blank stares from that particular crowd….likely just because it's such an strangely peculiar song.

I thought I had hit an all-time high when I sang "Kiss" by Prince a few weeks ago. I figured "THAT one is going down in the books." But last night I was a karaoke god. I sang "Roxanne" by the Police. I can hit those high notes like a champ. When I finished, the DJ said, "That, ladies and gentleman, is why I have been doing karaoke every weekend for the last ten years." I got a couple high fives on my way back to my seat. The guy at the table next to me turned and shook my hand and told me how great I did. I heard the next fella go onstage and say, "How can I be expected to follow THAT?"

A little while later, a good singer got up and sang "Georgia on my mind." I was feeling ballsy and decided to get out of my comfort zone even more. I noticed three women sitting alone and so I went and asked if any of them wanted to dance with me. Dana took me up on the offer. A slow dance. A bit later, her friend Laura asked me what kind of dance moves I had and so I busted out my best Running Man, which I have mastered, by the way! I asked if I could sit with them and by that point I was being called up on stage to sing my next song: Pat Benetar's "We Belong". I told Dana she had to be my muse for the performance. I gave it hell. She was dancing around me and hugging on me….all whilst I was singing. Then, about midway through - at a sort of crescendo in the song - Dana ripped my pearly button snap shirt completely open. And I mean all the way open. So there I am singing Pat Benetar, bare-chested in front of a room full of strangers. I didn't skip a beat. By then it had turned into a duet, though I was doing most of the heavy lifting as no one else seems quite as comfortable SCREAMING into the microphone. That's one of my strengths; I project.

By the way, bear in mind that this is all done WITHOUT the aid of any amount of alcoholic beverages. All stone sober. Though it may help that other people are drinking.

I stayed until at least 1:30am last night. On the way home, reflecting back on an overall kick ass weekend that contained a lot of social activity, I thought sincerely, "My life can't get much better than this." Sure, in theory it COULD. But last night, I was convinced that nothing could have made my life any better than it was at that moment. Getting out, meeting people, making my own fun, finding people to connect with, finding people to have fun with, breaching my comfort zone, getting out of my head, laughing my ass off.... Living well.