Deadbeat Club

Well.  Here I am.

And a week ago I found myself at a restaurant/bar with my boss/friend.  We ate/drank, talked/smoked, and pondered universal health care/Canada.

Did I mention he was dressed like Slash?  (Get it?  I hope so, because I went a long way for that joke and I hate a crappy payoff.)

Anyway, our waitress (Dana) for the evening somehow brought up the fact that Karaoke is performed at this place on Sunday nights.  And so I might have, potentially, possibly mentioned that I can do a pretty kick ass Fred Schneider of the B-52s.  I might have even sort of, kind of, hinted at the fact that “Love Shack” is my song of choice.

Then Dana proceeded to sing the female part of the song at our table.  And she nailed it.  A pact was soon made:  I’d be back Sunday to sing it, and she would be my background singer.

So Barrett (and his wife) hold me to this promise.  He showed up – solo – on Sunday night to pick me up.  This game was on.  I was going to have to perform this song for the first time in years.  Previously, I had done it at a karaoke bar (my cherry busting moment), and then two different weddings.  Really.

Barrett and I grab a table on the patio, even though karaoke is inside.  We wanted to eat first, plus I needed a little liquid courage.  And our waitress?  She was Danielle – not Dana.  Uh, oh.  Dana called in sick.  (Go ahead and make jokes here.  I’ll wait.)

For the record, I cannot do “Love Shack” without female background singers.  No one can, really.  There would be a lot of dead air, and that does not mix well with alcohol imbibing patrons.  Especially when they are looking for people that, well, have boobs.

With that in mind, I got Danielle to recruit for me.  And, to her credit, she found two willing participants.  Unfortunately, one of them liked to pimp her yearly salary (substantial, if true).  But I wasn’t there to pick up women – I was there to rock the Shack!

And here is where I need to give a little background info about my current situation.  My voice sucks.  Allergies have beset me, so I was only qualified to sing, oh, something by the Psychedilc Furs, Leonard Cohen, or “Love Shack” that night.  No worries, I thought.

But my recruited background singers came with a caveat:  I had to sing lead on “California Dreaming” for them.  Well, eff me!

I feel pretty confident in saying that it was a disaster.  I think Barrett got video of this (can I say abortion?), but I hope the only one that sees it is his wife.  And, honestly, I hope she did not get to view it.  The sky was definitely grey.

Finally, it is time for me to sing “Love Shack”.  My two recruits stood up there with me and, well, sucked.  I’m not sure they even knew the song.  I know I screwed the pooch on “California Dreaming”, but at least I knew the tempo and inflections.

But there were only like 8 people in the place.  So I didn’t embarrass myself too much.

Unless Barrett figures out how to upload to YouTube…


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