You know, it’s damn near impossible to ruin a Mexican-food dinner for me. It is. Gimme some salsa and a Diet Coke and I turn into an exuberant fat kid. Unfortunately, we hit Corona’s tonight during Friday-night karaoke and I could barely choke down my chile poblano. Despairing selections included:
- Yesterday, The Beatles
- Lyin’ Eyes, The Eagles
- How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?, Michael Bolton
It got worse but my self-preservation mechanism kicked in and I drowned out the screeching melancholy by repeating verse 2 of “99 Problems.” While I tried to talk the Kaiser into singing something with me (and I was going to DOIT, too), he turned me down. He actually seemed embarrassed.
Is that where we are now? Are we approaching the age at which everything I suggest is horrifying? I’d say yes, but I don’t think this is a good case study, considering it was… karaoke at a Mexican restaurant. I mean, I’d turn down that suggestion too if it weren’t accompanied by four gigantic margaritas, a Xanax, and a $20 dollar bet.
Also, you MUST do this.