Saturday night, Christine and Debbie and I went out to Jim's Hideaway for karaoke. (Ann was supposed to come too, but she wasn't feeling well). Christine actually discovered Jim's quite a while ago. It's a nice low key little restaurant. (Matter of fact, Dave and I took the kids there for lunch once or twice). Real unpretensious, no need to get dressed up or anything. And the clientele is SO nice...no rude drunken louts or snotty big haired girls, or NUTTIN'!
Now, Debbie had never done karaoke before and had stated that she would not be singing. I told her (and Ann, this was before Ann backed out) "You guys are SO going to get up there with me and sing I Will Survive or so help me I will leave your blonde butts in that parking lot and you'll have to solicit rides home from the denizens of Jim's"
So, suffice to say, Debbie knew she'd be singing.
As we got out of the car and we heard the most dreadful warbling I told her, "See, you have nothing to worry about. PLENTY of people can't sing"
And actually, the patrons at Jim's were much worse than most other places I've gone for karaoke. Usually, there are more singers than non singers. This time around, there were really only three decent vocalists - Christine, some other girl, and the karaoke guy.
(And can someone please tell me why karaoke guys are almost always in thier mid-50s, balding, with a pot belly, a cowboy hat and wire rimmed glasses? I mean, imagine Santa Claus without the red suit and the beard and long hair and you've got the image of most of the karaoke guys I've seen)
The worst "singer" of the night (BESIDES me of course) was this guy who had to be in his 70s. His chosen song was "Short Dick Man" (no, I am NOT kidding, Good Lord how I wish I was though) - although he didn't really sing it as much as just shout repeatedly into the mic "No, I don't want no short dick man"
So, the karaoke guy decided to help him out, by singing in falsetto, "Eenie weenie teeny weeny shriveled little short dick man"...then he saw the three of us singing along (we were sitting right next to the stage), and we all chimed in with "get the f*** out of here"
The karaoke guy also decided to bill us as "Vicki and the Vickettes" even though I filled out all the slips with "Vicki, Debbie and Christine". We sang "Man, I Feel like a Woman", "I Will Survive" and "You Oughtta Know" (which prompted a shout of "That was AWESOME" from a guy who later asked for my phone number. Of course I told him I was engaged and he looked so sad. Hee.)
At some point, I looked up and there was a stuffed frog (wielded by the karaoke guy) dancing on my shoulder. So I kissed him (the frog, not the karaoke guy) but he didn't turn into a prince.
And then, I soloed on "Give it Away". Now, remember this, I CAN'T SING. Anyone can tell you that, my mom, Bobby, my friends, my kids, anyone. (Actual conversation with Lissa: Me, singing along to the radio: I can't sing, can I? Lissa: No, not really)
So, I have NO idea how I got up the nerve to solo, but damn it was fun. And then, Debbie, blonde, ditzy Debbie, had the brilliant idea to do Cotton Eyed Joe....which first resulted in the three of us busting out into the chorus...and then I said, "Um...guys? Do any of us know how the rest of the song goes? You know, the part that goes 'Na na na na na na nanana Na na na na na na Cotton Eyed Joe'"
Of course, no one did...but we did it anyway...sort of.
I think we ended up on that stage laughing our asses off through the entire song. Not much actually "singing" took place. Matter of fact, our rendition of Cotton Eyed Joe will go down in history as one of my worst karaoke flame-outs, along with Come On Eileen, Material Girl and Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go (which K and I screwed up not once but TWICE)
So that was a fun Saturday night. I didn't drink and I still had a good time...which just goes to show that one does not have to consume copious amounts of alcohol in order to have fun (and this ends the soapbox portion of this entry)
Sunday was Easter and the kids came over to visit. And when I say kids, I mean my kids AND Greg's kids. I can't remember the last time we had all five kids running around this house. Wheeee!!! What fun.
We tried to get a picture of the five of them together, but Greg's son Julian would not cooperate. And then Susie got sulky. And then Ben got sulky. And then Greg pulled out donuts. And that was the end of that photo op.
(I did get some great pics of the girls. Watch for them, coming soon to a flickr near you)
Actual conversation with Ben:
Me, pulling him into my lap: ::sniff sniff::
Me, whispering (so as not to embarass the boy): Ben, why do you smell poopy?
Ben: Cus I just farted
It amazes me how much Melissa has changed since she's been in therapy. It's only been about a month, but the change is noticable. She's more relaxed, more talkative, she smiles more...heck, the kid is GLOWING.
So later, I took them back to Dave's house, and while we were waiting for Dave and Inez to get home, Lissa turned on a CD. The second song that played was The Macarena, which led to me asking Lissa whether she knew how to do that dance...which led to the highlight of my weekend: me and my two girls doing the Macarena in the middle of the living room. Lissa picked it up like THAT ::snaps fingers:: - she's got her mom's dance genes....Susie didn't quite get it, but she didn't have a lot of time (she joined the dancing after Lissa and I had started). I was going to play the song a second time, but just then, Dave got home and the kids pounced him, demanding Easter candy (I wouldn't let them have any until they checked with him)
So that was my weekend. I also spent eight hours at the office filing, but that part isn't really worth mentioning.
No 80's lyric tonight cus my hand is now stiff from all this typing and I just don't feel like wracking my brain looking for a lyric. Ooh, maybe I'll post two tomorrow!
