I didn’t understand the Karaoke thing, previously.

As a rule, I don’t sing in public.

Sure, I might belt out the old song in the car, windows tightly closed, no witnesses, but generally, I don’t let most people her me in my dead toad mode.

So co-scribe Ms. Jossy had a recent birthday, and a girl’s night was on-order.

One of Ms. Jossy’s choices: Puget Sound Pizza karaoke.

Umm. Gulp. OK.

So there we were, as things began somewhat awkwardly.

The place was packed, and both Angie and I were surrounded by people we didn’t know, except for Teddy Haggarty. Did you know his old-time relations were Hatfields?

But bartender Anna rocked my world with vodka cranberry â€" twist of lime â€" glasses coming all night long, and a taste of pineapple coconut decadence into the evening, and perhaps I can excuse my behavior as liquid lube side-effect?

Dunno.

All I know is, I got the mic, where Leonard Haggarty MC-ed (every Friday and Saturday), and sang "Mother’s Little Helper," a Stones ditty about drugs helping moms along the road, until the mom ODs.

Ms. Jossy sang "Cult of Personality," waking up the crowd. I sang "Breathe (2 am)" and then a Lisa Loeb song, and something else.  Because I was an addict, and I needed to feel that warm hard mic in my hand.

I don’t sing well, in public, the same way Ms. Angie rock star Jossy does.  She rocks the high notes, relishes the low notes, hugs the mic stand.

Nor do I sing the way Tim did, or Seth-Green look-alike Ben did.

But damn, I had fun.

And I think I caught the karaoke buzz.

Who’d’a thunk it could happen to me? â€" Jessica Corey-Butler