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