Kudos to M for organizing a kick-butt evening at Karaoke One SevenÂ on W. 17th Street where I sang so loud and so hard that I definitely busted a vocal chord, much to the delight, I am sure, of those who will be interacting with me tomorrow at work. For the majority of the patrons at KOS, one can pay $2 per song and belt out a tune at the bar in front of anyone and everyone. For our little group, however, we decided to book an entire room to ourselves (at the Ã¼ber-affordable price of $3 per person per hour) where we each fought over microphones and stage presence while singing everything from Abba to Luscious Jackson. I can honestly say it’s been quite some time since I’ve laughed and sweat that much and why I will alwaysÂ want to make out with my friends after a night like this. I love them so much, it scares me. Seriously. I may very well shrivel up and die if I were ever without them.
And in case you were wondering, I do not have a good singing voice. I know this for sure. On my recent road trip, I brought along with me a voice recorder to capture any moments of clarity, genius, and otherwise while I was driving and instead used it as my own personal music studio. After singing a dozen or so songs in the car one day, I finally had a chance to play back my recordings in my hotel that evening. Wow. They were unbelievably bad. They weren’t even melodic. I mean, I always thought I could carry a tune, even if I might not have had perfect pitch, but I have been sadly mistaken. And here’s another thing I know for sure when it comes to my singing: I don’t care. Listeners, beware! I will continue to sing my heart out even if it means I may very well be tape-bound and hauled off to an insane asylum (like that ain’t coming one day regardless).
Having gotten to the karaoke place before the party started, E and I opted to grab a quick bite to eat at Petite AbeilleÂ (“Small Bee”), also on W. 17th Street and one of four Manhattan locations. We each ordered a very large bowl of lentil soup and spent a good half-hour chatting about how we are both undiscovered talents who were born to sing, dance, and perform. We agreed we haven’t missed our callings and that there are some unfortunate people out there losing money by the secondÂ because they don’t know we exist…yet.
Oh, and I think I should mention that this entire evening (keep in mind, I don’t drink alcohol) cost me a total of $14. Who said New York City was an expensive place?