'cause we're all in the mood for a hummer job
Fun and raucous night at Rose's, starting with the Tourists From Hell: four of them: Quiet Man, Seriously Fake Boobsalot, Sleeping Victim, and Bad Clarinet. The last was a woman with an amazingly abrasive voice; as Soren later told Robby, "She sounds like someone shoved a clarinet down her throat, and she's really pissed off about it." "With a broken reed," I later added.
At any rate, Bad Clarinet was the worst, as she was constantly loud, talking through every song, except when she was singing (off-key and fouling up both lyrics and melody, of course), and yelling at Sleeping Man, "Wake up, goddammit! You'd better wake up and get into a party mood!" She did that all the way through Clare's set, with Seriously Fake Boobsalot encouraging her.
(I did ask someone on staff casually, "Would it be a bad idea for me to spill a glass of ice water on her?" They loved the idea, but wouldn't give me the water.)
When Robby came in, she decided to stand up and give us a sexy dance to "Leroy Brown." Or at least, I think it was supposed to be sexy, from the way she ran her hands over her body and tossed her hair. Robby calmly pointed out that there's no dancing allowed (she'd ignored Kimlee's comment to that effect), and Bad Clarinet got very offended: "What do you mean, there's no fucking dancing? I'm outta here!"
"That's right. If you can't abide by our rules, then get the fuck out," Robby said, in a bright cheerful voice, with a smile on his face. So she left, and the rest of her party followed; only Quiet Man looked even remotely abashed as they stumbled out. The bar hooted and sneered as they left, then gave Robby a huge round of applause.
The rest of the night was merry and weird, with Clare asking us if one of us had been in London on Monday -- she was apparently in the airport with Ladypeculiar -- and much music. Carolynn and Tom got up to sing several times; Reive, Ladypeculiar, Sykii, Coyotegoth, and eventually two of Ladypeculiar's friends (one of whom was dressed in a way that made me think of Flashdance, which, by that time of night, had me in low-level gigglequakes and unable to look at her directly) showed. (It was the ponytail-and-headband combination, with the camisole -- she also looked far too much like someone out of the Joan Armatrading video for "Temptation," particularly when she tossed her head.)
Soren went home early, caught by a sudden wave of exhaustion, which meant that he missed us perusing Robby's songbook, my singing "Time After Time" -- and fumbling the lyrics in the first verse, Ladypeculiar singing "Son of a Preacher Man," the entire bar falling under Robby's 80's music spell and singing much Journey, "Karma Chameleon," and other epics of that era, and another escaping ashtray.
(Oddly reassuring: I walked away from the mic, feeling that I'd badly munged the song, though I did get through the rest of it with only one musical muddle -- anticipating my entrance and cutting off Robby's solo -- and when Kimlee came over later, she exclaimed, "You've never sung here before! You should sing more! and gave me my next drink on the house. And as we left, Michael also complimented me on my voice. So I guess I can still sing.)
Oh, the subject line is from the version of "Piano Man" that Robby does, which includes his tossing the "John at the bar" verse to Michael, who then sings (if I heard him aright):
Robby, I believe this shit's killing me
(as the smile runs away from my face)
for I'm sure that I could be a porno star
if someone would sit on my face..."
It is a West Village piano bar, after all. Two doors down, as I walked back in after seeing Soren into a cab, the crowd at Marie's Crisis was singing, "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" "THORAZINE!
I love my home.
Update: I just googled for Robby, and found this:
Robby and his hair
Meep!
At any rate, Bad Clarinet was the worst, as she was constantly loud, talking through every song, except when she was singing (off-key and fouling up both lyrics and melody, of course), and yelling at Sleeping Man, "Wake up, goddammit! You'd better wake up and get into a party mood!" She did that all the way through Clare's set, with Seriously Fake Boobsalot encouraging her.
(I did ask someone on staff casually, "Would it be a bad idea for me to spill a glass of ice water on her?" They loved the idea, but wouldn't give me the water.)
When Robby came in, she decided to stand up and give us a sexy dance to "Leroy Brown." Or at least, I think it was supposed to be sexy, from the way she ran her hands over her body and tossed her hair. Robby calmly pointed out that there's no dancing allowed (she'd ignored Kimlee's comment to that effect), and Bad Clarinet got very offended: "What do you mean, there's no fucking dancing? I'm outta here!"
"That's right. If you can't abide by our rules, then get the fuck out," Robby said, in a bright cheerful voice, with a smile on his face. So she left, and the rest of her party followed; only Quiet Man looked even remotely abashed as they stumbled out. The bar hooted and sneered as they left, then gave Robby a huge round of applause.
The rest of the night was merry and weird, with Clare asking us if one of us had been in London on Monday -- she was apparently in the airport with Ladypeculiar -- and much music. Carolynn and Tom got up to sing several times; Reive, Ladypeculiar, Sykii, Coyotegoth, and eventually two of Ladypeculiar's friends (one of whom was dressed in a way that made me think of Flashdance, which, by that time of night, had me in low-level gigglequakes and unable to look at her directly) showed. (It was the ponytail-and-headband combination, with the camisole -- she also looked far too much like someone out of the Joan Armatrading video for "Temptation," particularly when she tossed her head.)
Soren went home early, caught by a sudden wave of exhaustion, which meant that he missed us perusing Robby's songbook, my singing "Time After Time" -- and fumbling the lyrics in the first verse, Ladypeculiar singing "Son of a Preacher Man," the entire bar falling under Robby's 80's music spell and singing much Journey, "Karma Chameleon," and other epics of that era, and another escaping ashtray.
(Oddly reassuring: I walked away from the mic, feeling that I'd badly munged the song, though I did get through the rest of it with only one musical muddle -- anticipating my entrance and cutting off Robby's solo -- and when Kimlee came over later, she exclaimed, "You've never sung here before! You should sing more! and gave me my next drink on the house. And as we left, Michael also complimented me on my voice. So I guess I can still sing.)
Oh, the subject line is from the version of "Piano Man" that Robby does, which includes his tossing the "John at the bar" verse to Michael, who then sings (if I heard him aright):
Robby, I believe this shit's killing me
(as the smile runs away from my face)
for I'm sure that I could be a porno star
if someone would sit on my face..."
It is a West Village piano bar, after all. Two doors down, as I walked back in after seeing Soren into a cab, the crowd at Marie's Crisis was singing, "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" "THORAZINE!
I love my home.
Update: I just googled for Robby, and found this:
Robby and his hair
Meep!