No matter how many times James tried to get me to do it, he could never get me to sing karaoke. I have done it with a group a couple of times, but swore I would never do it solo. My rationale is I am tone deaf, I have a flat voice and I can't carry a tune and no one is ever going to be drunk enough to have to be subjected to that-especially not people I actually like!
Yesterday, I attended the "white trash bash," which of course was an event for the fun Meetup group. It's kind of sad I decided to go at 8:00 in the morning and didn't have to make a mad dash to Goodwill to put together an outfit. I had James' overalls from his redneck Halloween costume from 2006, one of his wife-beaters and a leopard print bra just laying around. The Braves' jersey was a gift from a friend several birthdays ago that I wore because I was a little self conscious about the bra. (Yet not enough to stop me from wearing it). A combo of some costume jewelry and some of my dad's jewelry rounded out the look. And of course my "stunner shades" as my co-worker calls them from last year's rock star Halloween costume.
I have been tempted the last few karaoke outings to get up and do it, but we have some really good singers in the group. I don't know what possessed me yesterday but I finally got up the nerve to do it. (Actually, she called my name before I had time to let what I was about to do really sink in). I mean, nothing says white trash like bad karaoke (well, other than the leopard print bra and white wife-beater, of course). So I did it. I got up there and butchered Alan Jackson's "Chattahoochee." It's the only song I know all the words to and can't resist singing.
Luckily for me, the way it was set up I couldn't hear myself. Unfortunately for everyone else, they could. I have promised never to do that to them again. My alter ego for yesterday, GretaJean, makes no such promises.
1 comment:
Sounds like the only thing you were missing were some really classy tattoos! :)
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