Things I’ve learned from my years of going to karaoke.
1. Never sing a song you don’t know.
2. Never make eye contact with the drunk guys at the bar.
And,
3. for God’s sake, beware of the 3 S’s…scotch, cigarettes and sun exposure.
That is unless you want to look like you’re sixty-five before you’re even thirty. This is why I never have more than two drinks, avoid second hand smoke, and stay out of the sun. (Although, realistically, there is little risk of sun exposure in a bar…still, it should be noted to stay out of the sun, just the same.)
*Side note* I realize cigarettes doesn’t actually start with an S…so sue me. It sounded good in my head, and the advice is still solid, so I went with it (to toss out a few more S words.)
Despite his better judgment, my husband agreed to go to karaoke with me tonight. He may be experiencing a wicked case of buyer’s remorse, however, after being exposed to the dreaded karao-cooties. It was clear to us, at least, that someone (the really old drunk lady gyrating her hips in front of the stage with a big glass of scotch and three straws) could have really used my aforementioned advice…oh…several years ago. And someone really should have cut her off at the bar several drinks ago, while they were at it.
The crowd when wild with laughter as the crazy CeeCee hit the stage, belting out Mustang Sally in her granddaughter’s belly shirt, but it wasn’t so funny when she climbed down to work the crowd, rubbing her way through the entire male population at our little small town pub. My poor hubby got a contact high from her breath, and was begging for hand santitizer for his exposed skin after she made her way to our table.
This is why he usually stays home. And I can’t really blame him, but I can still laugh. That shit was funny, and I only had one drink.
Until the next time…I’ll be filling the tub with Betadyne for my poor hubby.