Yesterday, I posted an entry about a fictional tale I told at Bomber’s on karaoke night (Wednesday) about a woman who died at my house because she was allergic to peanuts. Last night at Pinto and Hobbs, I was greeted by someone who had heard the story at Bomber’s.
First of all, there is something you should know about me. Karaoke is my guilty pleasure. I love to sing. I find karaoke to be entertaining. It satisfies my need to sing, I see my friends and it’s something to do instead of tossing darts, shooting pool or talking about sports. Why are American men obsessed with talking about sports anyway? For a number of years already, I have been going to Pinto and Hobbs (formerly the Bleecker) on Thursday nights for karaoke. Although the initial part of this story occurred at Bomber’s the night before, the rest of this story actually happened and took place last night at the P & H. Bomber’s, by the way, is a guilty pleasure of a guilty pleasure. Although it is a fairly funky place, most of the clientele at Bomber’s is very young. Sure, there are plenty of pretty girls to look at. Unfortunately, most of them look like my eldest daughter. As a result, I always feel a little like a dirty old man when I am there. I go because: 1) I love to sing; 2) the deejay is my friend; and 3) there are oodles of pretty young girls to look at. If truth be told, I prefer the company of age appropriate women. So, I never stay at Bomber’s for very long.
Now, back to Pinto and Hobbs where I get my heavier, weekly dose of karaoke. I say dose because I think karaoke is addicting for some people. I know it is for me. That’s the way it is with guilty pleasures.
I arrived at the P & H about 11 pm. Although karaoke officially starts at 10, it’s a late night spot and most people don’t start arriving until 11. Sid Stein included. The usual suspects were there. I am referring to my friends and a diverse and occasionally odd assortment of neighborhood people. The composition of the crowd runs the gamut from young to old, tattooed and pristine, and all races and genders. Last time I counted, there were at least 6 genders there. I am glad we have a more open society, but it certainly is more confusing.
I wasn’t there for more than 15 minutes when Jen, a young, chubby blonde lesbian walked in. Jen is very sweet and does a good job singing. She’s cute and friendly and always gives me a big hug. This time, however, I didn’t get a hug. She looked concerned.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"Sure," I replied. Noticing her worried look, I inquired why she asked.
"Well, you weren’t doing so good last night."
Eyebrows raised, I tried to figure out what she was referring to. "What do you mean? I felt fine last night." And really, I did.
"Well, didn’t you have a friend who died at your house?"
No way was I going to spoil the moment. I didn’t even crack a smile. Jen had taken me seriously. As stoic as I tried to be, I knew I wouldn’t be able to last long. I had to walk away before I started laughing. And, as I walked away from her, I pleaded: "But it wasn’t my fault! Really! She never told me she was allergic to peanuts!"
I raced over to Greg, the deejay. I had to tell someone who was there the night before about what just transpired. We laughed about it, but it wasn’t over. I had yet to get up and sing.
Some background will help here. I started going to Pinto and Hobbs a number of years ago when it was still called the Bleecker. At the time, a woman named Sue was the bartender. Sue was special. She was blonde, busty and beautiful, and man oh man, could she run a bar. Not only was she quick, but she knew how to take care of her good customers, and she packed them in. She had a sultry, deep voice and wore sexy tops which featured her major asset - great cleavage. And, she had a devilish sense of humor. She was great. At some point during the night, Greg would dedicate the song "Brickhouse" to her. No one would sing it. It just played in honor of Sue.
All the men and lesbians loved Sue. I was no different. Still, I wanted to distinguish myself from among Sue’s other adoring followers. I decided the best way would be with a song. I chose the Carpenter’s classic hit, "Close to You." It would be easy to change the lyrics to "Close to Sue."
I invented an adlib for the song. I transformed this simple, melodic love tune into a stalker song. During instrumental breaks, I would go on and on about how Sue had to get an Order of Protection against me because I was always following her around, just wanting to be "Close to Sue." One night, when the readers’ poll of Metroland magazine came out (Albany’s version of the Village Voice), I added that Sue was voted "most stalkable woman" in the Capital District for the 5th year in a row. Sue always rewarded me with a big smile and a drink. I would have done it for just the smile.
Well, last Thursday was different. Sue is long gone from the P & H, but I knew I had to sing the song. I got up, started to sing, and at my first opportunity, adlibbed:
"As many of you already know, my date from the other night died at my house because she was allergic to peanuts. I would like to dedicate this song to her memory. Her funeral is tomorrow, Friday at 11, and it would be greatly appreciated if you could come. It just so happens that tomorrow is also the birthday of the late and great Karen Carpenter, who died tragically at the tender age of 32 from anorexia, and who sang this beautiful love song." (FYI - I missed the actual date of her birthday by only one week!)
Toward the end of the song, I added:
"Some of you here might know that I used to dedicate this song to Sue, who tended bar here back in the day when it was still the Bleecker. It just so happens that the Metroland readers’ poll came out today. You’ll notice that Metroland no longer has a vote for "Most Stalkable Woman." There is a little note though. They decided to retire the category after Sue left the bar. One last thing. Please don’t forget. My friend's funeral is tomorrow at 11. If you want to make a charitable donation in her memory, please consider making a contribution to the Anorexia Foundation of America. And please, don’t forget to eat. Just make sure you’re not allergic to peanuts before you eat Asian food. At least at my house, anyway. Goodnight!"
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