“Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want
So tell me what you want, what you really really want
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
Really really wanna zigazig ha”
And thus began my spectacular re-entry into the world of Karaoke, a little duet with my big Sister, bopping and singing along to the Spice Girls, as if we’d never left behind our teenage dreams.
Not bad for someone who had no intention of being anywhere at all in the vicinity of a Karaoke bar last Saturday night.
Life is funny that way. My Sister and I were enjoying the spoils of generosity of my brother in law, living it up in the City for our “Peace and Pampering” weekend. We’d shopped, enjoyed a massage, done a movie and a spot of dinner before crossing paths randomly with our old flatmate from London, someone we rarely see but whenever we do it is with the guarantee there will be both laughter (and booze) in ample supply. He’d booked a Karaoke booth for his wife and friends at a bar directly across from the Cinema and insisted we join in the festivities. I was nervous – I rarely drink these days and the thought of singing in front of strangers made my stomach churn. Yet, succumbing to his pleas was easy – we never saw one another anymore and fate would have it that it was the 10 year anniversary that weekend of a particularly rowdy house party we’d thrown in honour of my 23rd birthday. It had to be kismet.
3.5 hours and about 5 songs later we bundled out of the bar. Turns out that once you get that first song under your belt it becomes a tad addictive! (Or you just get a little to drunk to care!)
Blessed hindsight should have made me remember that once I start Karaoke I apparently unleash a lyrical loving demon from within that is usually dormant.
9 years prior, which was likely the last time I sang in front of people I did not know, for pure entertainment value (not including We Sing or Sing Star) was at one of my bestie’s Hen’s night (also known as the infamous night Russell Crowe told me to fuck off when I dared ask him for an autograph – whole other story!). And if I recall correctly (through the blurry eyes of someone who’d had far too much to drink) I was trundled off the karaoke stage more than once. Not due so much to my off-key signing – though it was a contributing factor, I suspect – but for the fact I was a microphone hog.
Perhaps in a former life, just like the very first song sung on Saturday night, I was a “wannabe”. Whatever the case, those that were exposed to my tuneless tunes this weekend gone you can rest assured I wont be appearing on The Voice (hello favourite show of 2012!) anytime soon.
But I will be cranking out the We Sing on the home-front. Husband and neighbours, consider yourselves warned…
|My former London flatties and fellow Karaoke Kings, Minolski and Shezza!|