Last night at karaoke, I sang one of my favorite songs of all time, Stevie Wonder's "Living for the City." When I recounted the story to Zack tonight, he told me I had ballz. I don't mess around with an easy Monkees song. Nope. I, a dopey white guy with no vocal or dancing talent, pick a 1970s Motown song with a funky bass line. And a song that has the lyric, "To find a job is like a haystack needle / cuz where he lives, they don't use colored people." I had actually forgotten about that line until it flashed on the screen.
It felt okay, though. I definitely was not the worst singer there.
It was a fun night. Kelly's is a cool place.
Tonight, on the other hand, was a lot of hard work. I had expected to be cut early, to make it over to a friend's party, but my upstairs section was hopping and I didn't leave until 12:35. I was so expecting the early cut, in fact, that I wore my new I guess there was never a curse, they just sucked for 85 years t-shirt, which I wanted to show off at the party, under my work shirt. (I also couldn't find a clean undershirt when I left for work.) It was embarssing, because in certain light you could read the shirt, and I kept worrying that someone would mention it. It didn't happen. At least I made good money.
Have to be back in at 9 tomorrow. I'm sore.
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