Sex and Candy

For a few years, I went to the Bleecker Café on Thursday nights for karaoke. I do love to sing and I do love attention, so karaoke is a natural choice for me. The Bleecker had one of the best late night crowds in Albany, an eclectic (and I do not use the word eclectic lightly) mix of Center Square residents, politicians, lobbyists, karaoke addicts and one author. For those of you unfamiliar with Albany, Center Square in Albany is a mini version of Greenwich Village. What made the Bleecker especially unique in New York’s capital city was that race, gender and age were all optional. In other words, when Sid Stein says eclectic mix, he really means it. (Sorry about going from first person to third, but I couldn’t help it.)

Not everything stays the same. The owner of the Bleecker died. Michael Boxley, former advisor to New York Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver, was involved in a sexual assault case, making all legislative personnel more cautious about going out and about, and I got divorced. Change isn’t always bad. The Bleecker was sold and is now called Pinto and Hobbs and it’s still a great place to go. Over the years, I became friendly with the karaoke DJ. Greg is a nice guy too. He gives me a lot of leeway when I sing.

The Bleecker isn’t the only place where Greg is a DJ. By now, you have read about my Wednesday night hangout, Bomber’s, on Lark Street, across from Planned Parenthood. The crowd there is much younger on average, mostly 20-somethings who look at me as an old man. And, if truth be told, I am old enough to be the father of many of them. Still, the girls are cute, they are not my daughters, and if you gotta sing, you gotta sing.

When I sing karaoke, I like to adlib during musical breaks in the song. It’s always funny, but sometimes a bit raunchy. That is what I meant when I said that Greg gives me a lot of leeway. Greg, however, is a businessman, and he is more cautious at Bomber’s than he is at the Bleecker. I am not sure why, but maybe he thinks the kids won’t appreciate me as much as the more mature Bleecker crowd. Fortunately for Greg, there is one song that doesn’t leave me any room for adlibbing. That’s "Sex and Candy," a one-hit wonder by a group called Marcy Playground. It’s a song well-suited to my baritone voice and may be my best song. So, if Greg just wants me to sing, he’ll play "Sex and Candy," figuring I will just sing it straight, which sounds a bit funny considering I primarily sing it at a gender-optional place. I know Greg picks the song for this reason, but I don’t mind. I love the song.

http://www.marcyplayground.net/

Here are some of the lyrics:

Hangin' round downtown by myself
And I had so much time to sit and think about myself
And then there she was, like double cherry pie
Yeah, there she was, like disco superfly
I smell sex and candy here
Who's that lounging in my chair?
Who's that casting devious stares in my direction?
Mama, this surely is a dream.

It’s somewhat slow, and very sexy, which is one of the reasons I enjoy it. So there I was, on stage at Bomber’s, singing to the 20-somethings, when a most remarkable thing happened. As I was singing, two lovely, young girls came up on the small stage. One danced seductively in front of me, the other behind. I knew they were making fun of the "old man at the bar," but I didn’t mind at all. I quite enjoyed the attention from these two beauties. They were smiling and giggling. I am sure they had friends at the bar who were also enjoying their escapades. I still didn’t mind. They were both great dancers. At my age, attention from young girls is attention from young girls.

With a big smile on my face, I kept singing "Sex and Candy." It was going well. I was happy. Greg was happy. The two girls seemed happy as well. Then, the one in front of me made a huge mistake. She apparently thought that she could make a complete mockery out of Sid Stein for the benefit of herself, her friends and the rest of her demographic at this very crowded bar. I could see the wheels spinning behind her mischievous grin. Although I am sure she never saw "The Blue Angel," the great German film in which a sultry, sexy Marlene Dietrich playing Lola tempts and ridicules the much older professor portrayed by Emil Jannings, I had. I knew the score. I am Sid Stein, not some stodgy old bachelor in a movie.

Maybe you are wondering what mistake this poor girl made. Well, as I was singing and she was gyrating in front of me, she started to unbutton my shirt. I am sure she didn’t intend on going too far - she just thought she was being funny at my expense. Her mistake was that I had the microphone in my hand, compounded by the fact that I am not Emil Jannings portraying a fictional character. And, she was no Marlene Dietrich. I turned to Greg who was half titillated and half shocked. Maybe he was thinking - lucky Sid. I said to him: Sorry, Greg, I know you want me to just sing, but I can’t let this one go by without saying anything." And so I did. I said, so that all could hear me clearly:

Honey, I don’t want you to unbutton my shirt. I want you to unzip my fly and give me a blow job.

The poor girl was mortified. She shouldn’t have been messing around with Sid. She slunk back to her friends. I just hope that in some small way, I redeemed that professor in "The Blue Angel." More importantly, Greg forgave me. And the beat goes on.