Karaoke Queens

Friday night found me and Darling D at a karaoke night.
And no, we don't do it regularly, it was our first time.
And yes, for some reason we felt slightly embarassed and guilty... like applying to audition for the X factor. We hoped no one saw us going in there.

It was in the bar where there had been a small altercation on the day of our last visit . But I had forgotten all about that until we were about to go in.

Our feelings were mixed when we found the place deserted. But little by little the would-be performers trickled in... and none of them were the man with the bloody lip. But I suppose it would have healed by now...

And then we were off. People were looking through enormous menus, and scribbling their song choices on bits of paper, which were then given to the bar patron. He called out a name and then the first singer approached and grabbed the microphone. There was a large screen with a digital girl dancing on it, the music started and the words crawled across the screen like slugs. A pattern was set for the rest of the evening. The song choice was invariably a "variety" slow ballad of the Celine Dion type. The voices were generally OK and then... they would do something painful...often totally without warning, but usually when the melody rose to unscalable heights and they didnt have the correct climbing equipment.

Darling D and I kicked off together with a quick Yesterday in close harmony. Then she broke the mould and sang a series of fast French songs which seemed to be mainly about chocolate and bananas. I growled my way through a quick I cant get no satisfaction, Mick Jagger's voice being slightly lower than mine...my balls havent dropped? I suppose I didnt have the right equipment either. The oddest part of it all was having your back to the public while singing in order to look at the words. I dont know if that is what usually happens in Karaoke bars, but I expect you will all be too embarassed to tell me if you do know.
We did have fun and enjoyed the atmosphere..sort of. There was just something a bit strange about it that I couldnt quite define.

Drummer boy dropped by on Saturday and I asked him how he and the other students were coping with the cooking and housework.
No, they dont use rotas, he said. For cooking they just try to remember who hasnt cooked for a long time and make them do it. Washing up was completely different though. That is decided by a short hand of poker.
As he left to drive back, he asked me whether I had a clean washing up sponge to spare. He must have lost the last hand , I reckon...