karaoke as therapy
Wednesdays and Sundays are Spike's and Martin's where we try to pull whoever we can into our little storm of caterwauling. Three of us work in call centers, one in a hotel. There's something a little strange about going to karaoke so regularly when you spurned the idea just a few years ago. Karaoke used to be something that would annoy me to no end while waiting tables in Fredericksburg or when I was trying to pick up a beer at the Tavern and the yuppies across the street would be hollering along to fucking "Margaritaville."
Now, though, one can find little slivers of tragedy (when most burnt-out ladies end up doing "Gold Dust Woman") and comedy (when the guy who sounds like Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein takes a crack at "Smoking in the Boys Room"). None of us will ever be stars but there's a release in being able to pull off Iron Maiden and "Pussy Control" with some energy. Even if we have to put up with someone singing Disturbed and Kid Rock duets to do so.
Now, though, one can find little slivers of tragedy (when most burnt-out ladies end up doing "Gold Dust Woman") and comedy (when the guy who sounds like Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein takes a crack at "Smoking in the Boys Room"). None of us will ever be stars but there's a release in being able to pull off Iron Maiden and "Pussy Control" with some energy. Even if we have to put up with someone singing Disturbed and Kid Rock duets to do so.