Some of you know that I picked my trainer, Renee, based on the fact that she had to schedule her training around two weeks where she would “live like a Kardashian.” I had no idea if she was a good trainer or not. She had a sense of humor and that was good for me. I knew we would become friends. She was from Kentucky and had once lived in Birmingham, so she has Southern cred and that was comforting.
Like myself, Renee is a people watcher. We are planning a NASCAR trip at some point. Right now we are in the pre planning stages. I have chosen these shorts:
I’m going to wear mine loose on my hips to show off my thong and Renee is wearing hers a few sizes too small. We are still debating Budweiser bikini tops or bedazzled husband-beaters, but I digress.
Renee invites me to go this local karaoke bar, Crickets, for best people watching next to only the Fall Festival. She prefaced a girls night out, but she has been talking about going to this bar for months. I suspect she is having people-watching-withdrawals.
We walk up to the bar and there is a very large guy hanging outside. Surely, he is not a bouncer. What in the world would they need a bouncer outside of a karaoke bar in Newburgh, Indiana? Do they have unruly singing or something? This isn’t NYC, for goodness sakes. There was no line of hopeful people waiting to enter the place.
We go into the bar. It has assorted tables that may have come from a bingo hall, vinyl covered high back chairs (also from a bingo hall?), and an assorted variety of the areas finest people. I felt a little insecure, everyone had a cigarette hanging out of their mouths and I was not a smoker.
We find some open bar stools and plant our butts down. Renee had a cheshire cat grin and I eyeballed the crowd. Oh yeah, this is prime time.
I didn’t think Renee noticed that the guy sitting behind her who was eyeballing us like a couple of ribeyes. He was sporting a handle bar mustache, a classic mullet, and masculine tank top. He reminded me of this guy:
I did not think she could hear me over the can moaning (singing) that was taking place, so I immediately sent her a text: Joe Dirt is here sitting right next to you.
She whipped her head around to look and back at me and about spit her beer on me. Her text back: I’m in heaven. Then she claps and hollers for the person who just finished torturing our ears. I didn’t want to be rude and discourage them from doing that again.
We had another gal, Kristin, meet us there. She showed up as I was returning to the bar from the little girls room. The gentleman who had the stool next to me was asking Renee is she was going to sing.
Renee: I am tone deaf.
Me: She has the voice of an angel.
Man: eyebrows raise
Renee: A tone deaf angel.
Me: She is just shy. Her voice is beautiful. Everyone in the church choir thinks so.
Man: blank stair
Me: She only sings at church. Only hymnals. Do they have hymnals in the karaoke book?
Man: Only in church huh?
Renee: Can we get three shots of tequila?
I do not do shots. I like the song by LMFAO, but I straight liquor is not my friend. I talk about doing shots, but I’m not longer in college.
Renee gave me this don’t be a fun-sucker look. Fine, but can I have a very large glass of ice water please.
Lick, shoot, suck…. blech.
I forced back my gag reflex making that first 1/4 of the shot my bitch. Ugh.
I look over and discover Renee and I have another similarity: she also only drank about 1/4 of her shot of tequila. We are both talk a big game, but boil us down to reasonable gals who fear horrible hangovers and vomiting in public.
We pushed back our unfinished shot glasses and decided to belly up to the karaoke stage. We had the karaoke book, but just couldn’t decide on what to sing. Every song we came up with had not been in the book.
We then would pick out songs and do our best interpretation of that song. It was like a competition of who could make us laugh the hardest. Somehow, we ended up singing one of my all-time favorite songs It Takes Two by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock. Renee too is a fan of late 1980s hip-hop. Who knew? We were not at the microphone, mind you, but sitting directly in front of the singer as we belted out the lyrical geniusness of Rob Base.
All of a sudden the karaoke commander states that this is the last song of the night. A young guy stands up and makes his way to the mic. I cannot be in a karaoke bar and disappoint the girls. He was singing Closing Time. I absolutely hate that song, but I wasn’t going leave there without doing something. I karaoke-bombed him. I consider myself a really good back-up singer and a fabulous car soloist, so I knew he would not mind. And just to give everyone a little extra something something I did the robot during the musical interlude. Oh, yes. I do NOT disappoint.
And just for your musical pleasure: