The Karaoke Was the Highlight of the Trip?

As you all know by now, there are two things that I never blog about. First, is the name of The Company as well as any information about it that could be used to identify it. Companies get really cranky when they get blogged about, and they like to fire people who work for them and post unauthorized information on the internet. Second is when I'm out of town. This is because The Mrs. gets uneasy when I'm not home and doesn't like people to know.

Naturally, though, we have NavieA-B who can be counted upon to fill you in on both counts whenever the mood strikes.

So, as you must have read by now here, I made a brief junket out to Santa Clarabelle to check in on the project that I left in the lurch in order to improve my life by an order of magnitude by moving to Fort TomCollins. I can honestly say that only one person from my project was happy to see me back: Peanut. He was nearly beside himself with excitement. StinkyJ managed to spend the whole time complaining that I didn't say enough redundant things just to hear myself talk in the day-long face-to-face thing I was there for, and BrainkyP only cared to know whether or not I was going to see Spanky later so that I could give him a plaque. The JohnnyB decided to stay home pretending to be sick despite me having set aside an evening for his grand plans that apparently included a blogger summit, if NavieA-B is to be trusted.

However, I did manage to have an excellent time nonetheless. Wednesday night, when I arrived, I met Cavitation, WoodyWoody, and Dude at SC-13 for some beers. Then we hit my favorite sushi bar in San Schmose where, after I ordered, the waitress said, "Ummm...that seems like a lot of food." Heh.

After that, Dude wanted to head into the bar of the restaurant next door cuz he saw a hot chick walk into the restaurant and he figured she was sitting all by herself at the bar just waiting for Dude to come along.

But she wasn't. She was in the restaurant eating with her boyfriend. So, crestfallen, we hit the street. Two blocks away is the legendary Den at Fourth Street Bowl, so we headed there. None of us had ever been there before, but GerryP used to go on and on about how much he and Fat Guy loved the place.

Well, my goodness, it was just like the review. A complete dump. When the karaoke started, I nearly fell off my chair. A group of, ummm, slightly mentally challenged individuals showed up and started bellering up a storm. Holy smokes, I can't remember the last time I was so entertained. One of the ladies kept coming over to our table to try to get us to sing, too. We're all used to that since we are, each and every one of us, formidable chick magnets. (My powers even extend to the blogosphere, though I mainly seem to attract married womens there, much to the consternation of The Mrs.) I kept thinking to myself that I should get up there and do my impression of Davie Lee Roth covering Louis Prima's "Just a Gigolo/I Ain't Got Nobody" medley, which, if I do say so myself, I do dead nuts on. Hell, I thought, I'm in a dump where nobody knows me (except for Cavitation who is leaving the country, Dude, who has kept secret for years that little incident when we were installing the porch roof, and WoodyWoody who I can just say was too drunk to remember anything if he blabs) in a town in which I do not live and very rarely visit. But then I kept saying, "Maybe after one more drink."

You know how many drinks it takes before I'm drunk enough to get up to do Karaoke?

Neither do I.