The following is a post, slightly edited, from my old LiveJournal blog
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Arrived late (around 6:00 pm), which was a good thing since I missed the “Karaoke Entertainer Of The Year” contest. What does that mean, really? Who picks the winner? What do you get, besides recognition that only lasts a year? In my “not-so-humble” opinion, this “competition” represents the antithesis of what karaoke is really about: getting up on stage and having fun singing to a captive audience. If I really, really wanted to “show off”, I would make a better effort to become a “regular” at the local piano bar (been there a few times — kinda boring). Besides, I have a feeling that the competition is graded heavily on stage presence and movement — not my strong points, although I’m working on it.
Had a drink with my old acquaintance Donald at The Transfer. I had not seen him for at least three years. Sadly, that’s around the time when his partner passed away. I wish I had known; I would have been there to support him as best as I could. Donald said that the bar had been renovated. From what I could tell, not much changed. It was a slow night. Seated around the bar were Donald and I, an older, inebriated gentleman (all by himself), and a group of about four friends on the far side. I used to visit that bar on my way to the Castro after singing at The Mint. I had a “friend” that frequented the joint. He was very affectionate with me (and also very inebriated). He was later eighty-sixed from the establishment. I didn’t hear the whole story, but he apparently got violent and/or super-snarky with some of the regulars. He was always nice to me, though.
Back to The Mint (somehow it’s always “back to the mint” in my life!). I got to see Miriam, Peggy, Sebastian, Daddy David, and some other people that look vaguely familiar. Sang “Chances Are” and “Fly Me To The Moon”. The sound system was cranked up, so I didn’t have to yell. I could have done better, but the background music for “Chances Are” was not the same as the old Pioneer disk. Funny story break: last time I was at The Mint, my friend Hargin (I hope that’s the correct spelling) told me, after my rendition of “Young At Heart”, hang on a minute and I’ll get to the good part, that I had (this is the way I heard it): “Pikes to die for”. I thought about that for a moment, but couldn’t understand what fish had to do with anything. Pikes indeed! I later ‘fessed up and asked, “Pikes to die for?”. He corrected me: “Pipes to die for”. It took me about 2.5 seconds to retrieve the pop reference to vocal chords from deep within my memory banks. It then took less than a second to realize the true scope of the compliment. Mr Opera Singer Compliments Washed Up Two-Bit Amateur “Karaoke Nut”. Mr Opera Singer (Hargin, if you didn’t realize it by now) is a nice guy. I always love hearing him sing.
When I got home, I was greeted by Snowball, who attempted to jump to my full height so that he could lick my face without me having to stoop. He almost succeeded. Had dinner, which consisted of fish, spaghetti, and green beans. We’re trying to eat healthy foods. Don’t ask about dessert, though. Holy cupcake, Batman!