I only wanted to see you . . .

So Sunday I woke up with a headach and a vague feeling of dread.  You know how it is, you had a few beers the night before, watched a couple movies and then you ended up at a karaoke bar.

A karaoke bar.

Not that I don’t love karaoke bars.  I totally do.  If they would have me I would move in to Sidekicks on the west side of Chicago and live there on Rolling Rock and chicken wings for the rest of my days.  I just don’t usually sing at karaoke bars.  I’m much better at acting as the little voice just behind you that says things like ‘Oooh, look they’ve got The Bangles!’  or ‘You know what you should sing, you should totally sing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart” I always offer to do backing vocals but rarely do a solo presentation.

Sadly, Saturday night Julia beat me to this role.  ‘Someone needs to sing Purple Rain!’ She shouted and then somehow there I was, on a tiny stage by the door staring up at a plasma screen showing one of those cheesy karaoke videos and spinging (that speaking in a tuneful way) along with the verses of Purple Rain.  I belted out the chorus, as you do, but decided to keep it restrained and tasteful on the verses.

Jeremy took a video of the whole sad show on his iPhone, but that’s been deleted now and it’s better for all of us if it stays that way.

Besides, I had nothing on our friend Ian’s performance of Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights.  He IS my Cathy.  He really is.

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