Friday, January 16, 2009

Let Me Entertain You!

Well the last couple of days have been a wurlwind. Went to my mates Thursday and saw Slumdog Millionaire, which was fabulous and deserves a best film nomination at the Oscars this year but may be overlooked by more Hollywood fair, as its gritty and alive and a bit too real for Oscar. This was followed by a play in my mates pool with his two adorable children, me doing the ubiquitous monster, chasing and throwing and spinning the kids around to screams of delight. We all swallowed way too much pool water, which I am now blaming for the way I felt the next morning - after drinking about 20 JD and cokes and singing my lungs out at the local kareoke. Yes it was kareoke night and we all knew how the night would play out. I arrived at the pub and helped my mate set up (so much gear for a kareoke night - I was quickly getting intimidated). There was a bloody stage for christ sakes - this was no tin pot affair - we were going for Idol re-enactments. I started to squirm in my seat. I needed alcohol and fast. The beer was taking too long to drink, even though it was low carb for my figure, so I switched to old faithful JD and diet coke. I scrolled through the song lists - Damn - No Robbie Williams, Feel. Whenever you decide to embarrass yourself with a night of kareoke you must start with a song that you feel comfortable with, so that sliding down that slippery slope into embarrassment hell seems acceptable. I procrastinated, I moaned and lamented and then I wrote down about 15 song requests like a lunatic eager for his lobotomy. I murdered the first song "Hotel California" singing in a droll tone completely off key, but strangely got applause (they mock you with their false appraise to place you into a strange sense of security). I then went onto to sing a John Cougar Mellancamp song and followed that with Robbie's "Angels" and now I was on top of the world. I was the new Idol singer, nothing could stop me, born with a new sense of freedom I sang songs I never would have dreamed off and joined in with the ever intoxicated crowd to sing along to my mate singing "Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again" - "No Way, Get Fucked, Fuck OFF". Apparantly I danced like a loon to renditions of "It's Raining Men" and "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" (I learnt this as I was leaving my mates house the next morning. Tail firmly between legs - reputation bruised and sullied).
So despite being cautious I was no match for the JD lubricating my ego and making me feel like a superstar. I am only pleased that I did not drop my pants on stage or writhe erotically and suggestively to stupid lyrics, which it has been known that I have succumbed previously in my time. Thank god for small favours huh!

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