Source: piccsy.com via Traci on Pinterest
Among my collection of shortcomings are a metabolism made of plastic and a singing voice that frightens both children and puppies alike. So of course, it was only a matter of time before my friends cornered me into a booth at a small, dark karaoke joint with bathrooms that had makeup smeared on the toilet seat. Always a plus.
I was game before reality rendered me pale. The American Idol rejects before me ranged from impressive to asthmatic. Everyone was very enthusiastic and encouraging when a buxomy girl whose rendition of Eye of the Tiger included phantom boxing and air jump-roping. As I sat admiring her awesomely inappropriate high kicks, I saw my name climb the performance queue and a “friend” noticed my green pallor. She offered me a shot of tequila. I am told I took eight.
Sooner or later the mailman comes to your gate because it was time for me to perform My Humps with two of my girlfriends. Somehow we picked up a fourth member to our trifecta on the way to the stage. “Brody” was a white boy who reeked of cheap leather and date rape but he rapped when he was supposed to and caterwauled when he could. Possessed by the spirit of Usher, he writhed and swaggered, pointed at women in the audience, and intercoursed them with his marijuana eyes. It was awesome and the audience went crazy! We became his back-up singers as he body-rolled with the persuasiveness that only comes from hours of studying You Tube.
I couldn’t have recognized the work of God’s Hand any clearer if the Almighty himself were to reach down from heaven above and smacked me. So in recognition of stealing the show, thank you Brody, please accept this Fist Bump.
When purgatory ended, I ran for the refuge of my friends who cashmere-blanketed my ego with warm fuzzies. Ben said only one of his ears bled and Gene said the only thing between me and a record contract was my advanced age. And when they clinked their glasses and tilted their heads to down their firewater, I waved my fingers and put a hex on both of their punk asses.
But for a supremely better karaoke performance, check out Jimmy Fallon and my squinty eyed beloved Joseph Gordon-Levitt here
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