May 4, 2006
I don't care for karaoke
Friends let friends ignore inhibitions to belt one out.

Jill Brooks
INtake columnist

My girlfriend was in town last week from L.A., bringing with her great detriment to both my punctuality at work and my liver.

We began on Monday night, and whittled down the week into one continuously hung-over nub.

We are both creative, but I choose tapping thoughts out over keys; with her, you never know what's next.
For the past few months she's mentioned gearing up for planning a one-woman act, which she will, one day very soon, perform in the city of angels.

She and I share lofty goals and a bent toward procrastination.

In L.A. she's surrounded by people in "the business" who provide for her needed inspiration and support.
She does perfect renditions of the Bad Seed and Gloria Swanson, and feels that if her L.A. friends perform, then she can, too.

For practice, she said she'd been frequenting karaoke spots in Venice Beach, singing "Brass in Pocket" and "Bungle in the Jungle."

This forced a question: What in the hell are you talking about?

I reminded her of how she broke into hives an hour before our junior-year production in high school, that the Mighty Oz had spoken years ago, and that she could not sing in public.

She replied, "Oh, but I can, and I do; it's fun throwing caution to the wind, ignoring my inhibitions and belting it out."

This I had to see.

My boyfriend and I met her for dinner; she said she needed to meet/converse with him before serenading.
After dinner we headed to a bar for my first-ever karaoke experience.

We were forced to listen to Vanilla Ice, Van Halen and a bunch of country songs I'd never heard while my friend waited her turn.

One sweet girl ready for her public embarrassment (yes, here I realize that at least she was trying, while I sat idly by dreaming up new pipedreams and drinking a Corona) told us that her eyelashes cost 98 cents, and that we should cheer "real hard" for her because she needed prize money for another tattoo.

Oh, wow.

Another woman sang "Proud Mary" without ever reading the monitor; the karaoke show-off.

My friend's two songs were great, and we cheered plenty.

After she finished she calmly said, "I must admit something: I lied. I'd never done that before."

In making us believe karaoke was "old hat" she calmly found the courage to try.

She is on her way to fame; I will, however, forever remain in the audience.