In a Karaoke Supernova
Tonight, in the interest of broadening my horizons, I took the night off from barelling through my run of Dr. Fate and deciding which issues of Legion of Super-Heroes are going to make the cut for the FUTUREBOX, and instead hit the town with my pal Becky and her crew.
But it wasn't a trip to my semi-usual stomping grounds. Instead, we took a trip out to one of her haunts, a delightful bar called the Triple Crown, a name that I can only assume has no actual meaning. I mean, I don't know. There might be some sort of world championship trifecta for power-mullet lesbians having sex in the bathroom. And if there is, this place is a lock for the Nationals.
It was, of course, a karaoke bar. Oh wait. It gets better.
Becky & Co. were regulars at this place, which I was able to deduce from the fact that they were on a first-name basis with the bouncer. But me, I had the joy of experiencing my first impression of the place, which was defined while I was waiting ten minutes for a glass of water when the first song I heard over the speakers was "Pussy Control."
Now that's one classy joint.
Eventually, shortly after an incident where Sheila literally shoved a Jell-O Shot into my mouth, it was decided that I was going to do some karaoke. And really, I say Jell-O Shot, but I'm pretty sure that it was just congealed Robotussin and whiskey. But hey, two for a buck!
Just for reference, this is what I look like when engaging in Karaoke, the Sport of Tone-Deaf Kings:
I think I look like a seedy motivational speaker ("You can make thousands of dollars every week working from home! I did! Because I Sieze The Day... Every Day!"), but according to Kevin, I come off more like I'm stirring up a Klan Rally. Either way, when I rock the mic, I rock the mic right. So what song did we choose for my Triple Crown Debut?
None other than the #1 Jam of the Summer, Kelly Clarkson's "Since You Been Gone."
And I tore that shiznit up. I had it all, baby: Inappropriate shouting, a cracking voice, vague yet soulful gestures to the crowd. I was on.
So on, in fact, that immediately after we finished the song, the bartender cut off the entire table. I'm not sure, but I think getting cut off at a bar after two Jell-O shots and a Red Bull has got to be some kind of record.
And just to round out the experience, we were followed by a guy that I was reasonably certain was actually retarded right up until he finished the song.
It was the best damn version of "You Shook Me All Night Long" I've ever heard. And that's real.