January 3rd, 2006

Chow Mein, a closed gym, and some reflections on Karaoke...

I made up the second box of Hoo-Mee Chow Mein, and had a serving for dinner. There is enough left over for both Robert and I to have it for dinner tomorrow night before dancing.

I went to Carmichael to walk for an hour, and found it closed. They are still on "special hours" this week. Regular hours return next week along with the beginning of classes for the Spring '06 semester.

At the last minute, I decided to go check out Karaoke tonight at Flex. Here are some notes and observations of my evening:

I spoke on and off with Tula Box (Drag Queen, and Sunday Karaoke Emcee Extraordinaire, door person on Tuesday nights) over the course of the evening.

At one point, she reminded me of the "three rules" that she pointed out to me on Sunday when I rubbed her buttocks, which were hanging out of pants that were like Daisy Dukes on a diet. I mean little mounds of ass were hanging out of the bottom of her pants.

I felt them, and was surprised at how firm they were (the mounds, not the pants), and I asked, "Are those real?"

She gave me the look -- the over-the-rim-of-your-glasses look -- and said, "Honey, there's three things you never ask a girl:
  1. Are those real?
  2. How much did those cost? and
  3. How old are those?"
This cracked me up Sunday, and it cracked me up again tonight. I love Tula Box.

This guy that was at Karaoke last week, or the week before, was back. I thought he was an out-of-town visitor for the holidays. Now I'm starting to wonder.

He's the one who sings with a lot of slow hand motion, not unlike I imagine Jim Nabors singing. He likes slow and brooding ballads like Jim would sing, too.

Well, tonight honey, he had on a red sequins smoking jacket, with a formal (tuxedo-style) white-ruffled shirt, and a red tie that wasn't a bow tie, but wasn't a long tie either. It was one of those little crossover-type jobs that look like what priests might wear. He looked like the quintessential lounge lizard.

He sang some song such as Over the Rainbow or The Rose, one of those slow things begging for his hand job. This guy also works a rapport that he imagines he has with the crowd, but so doesn't. I hate that.

At the beginning of his second song of the night, he takes the mic, and before singing the song says, "Three years ago tonight, my lover died in my arms. He was sick. He didn't have AIDS, though, he had [insert some disease here with the word gastrointestinal or gastronomical -- something like that -- in it.] He was a special man, and every year on his birthday, and on the anniversary of his death, I sing for him. I hope I can get through this without crying."

Lord. I mean it's a nice sentiment and all, but geez, what a buzz kill. And with that outfit on, well, it just came across as All That Jazz.

As I've mentioned before about Tuesday night Karaoke, the crowd tends to be young, with more Lesbians than are usually (make that ever) at Flex, and the emcee is a little waif of a young thing, who uses "so," "totally," and "like" to the point that you want to scream at him, "So, would you, like, totally shut the fuck up and play the next song?"

Evidently, I'm not the only one upon whose nerves he gets. Tula said to me at one point, "You'll love this. See that guy right there? He just said to me, 'So Sunday night is Drag Queen Karaoke and Tuesday night is Underage Hooker Karaoke?'" I fell out.

I hate it when a Lesbian is so masculine looking that I'm attracted to her. It's very disconcerting. There was one of those there tonight. I resisted.