Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 
"No More Drugs For That Man!"

Already the new year has proven that while I'm not the type to make any sort of half-assed resolutions, intentions I'd had have been discarded left, right and just-shy-of-centre.

Right now, Mel & I are in Connecticut visiting her folks. And it is very cold. I find it most peculiar and disturbing to say that it's colder down here right now than it was up in Canada. This makes no sense. There is more snow and lower temperatures here than I've seen up in Kitchener and Toronto the last 2 winters.

The word of the day might as well be: Whaaaaa?

It always makes for interesting stories when, during the 8-hour drive down to CT you experience the following: the border guards being worried that Mel was trying to smuggle me into the U.S. to work illegally (um...riiiiiiiight); ridiculous conditions where you can see perfectly down the road one second, and suddenly for the next two minutes it's a pure white-out on the road (and the whiteouts continue for the next 2 hours of travel); and a morning so bloody cold that Mel's car won't start as we leave the hotel we stopped in about halfway through the trip, and were forced to spend 3 hours tracking down a nice garage to warm her car up, jumpstart the battery, and then replace the battery since it was pretty much shot to shit anyways. Happily, though, it should be added that the hotel manager and garage mechanics were incredibly friendly and generous guys who deserve many accolades and a free round of coffee.

But I was not about to let all this Amercian hospitality go unrewarded. Which brings us to the captioning for this little bit of nowhere. Not two days ago, I swore I would never be caught singing in a karaoke bar. Oooooh, how I rue such words. It all began two nights ago when Mel's family had us sit down to play Karaoke Revolution. Think DDR with a headset. Now I'm not one to boast, but I am quite proud of the fact that in doing such elegant renditions of I'm Coming Out, The Wind Beneath My Wings and Complicated, I managed to kill 3 consecutive audiences.

No one had ever seen anything like it. I swear if there was a secret "Crucify" option you could unlock in the game if you were that horrible, I'd have been nailed up in about 30 seconds. This special talent did not go unnoticed by Mel's family; last night they took us tp a karaoke bar, one they frequented along with about 15 other regulars.

They signed me up to sing. So I came, I saw, I sang Brittney Spears' Baby One More Time. The Karaoke MC of the night even said before I got up, "Now this one I have to see to believe!"

Of course, I'm not a sadistic bastard, so I did issue the following warning to the bar patrons: "Hello, I'm Phillip, and I'll be playing the part of Brittney Spears tonight. Now just to warn you all, the following singer will sing notes that some sensitive views may find offensive. Listener discretion is advised."

And there the music went. I boldly sang in the gimpiest falsetto voice I could muster. I strutted about like I had no shame. Then just for larfs I switched voices and sang the second verse like I was more flaming than the entire cast of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

Many of you reading this can only laugh and say, "Yes, he has no shame", "Yes, he would do something like that", and the natural, "And they let you live because?"

Now perhaps this will boggle you all more than anything else about this account: the audience loved it. People were applauding and cheering and whistling. I received standing ovations. The waitress in the bar area went into the restaurant area to snag other staff members and bring them in to see me deliberately butcher the song. A woman ran up during the final round of the chorus, and shoved a dollar bill into my pants' pocket.

Mel claimed the dollar. (After all, to quote Sana, she is my manager, my lover and my pimp!)

If you are not yet afraid, consider then the aftermath of my singing: everyone was commenting on how Karaoke Nights had never been so lively. Everyone was singing, dancing, and deliberately picking songs contrary to their personality or age. It didn't stop at all. I'd created a monster, and gleerfully unleashed it upon the neighbouring villages.

However...there was one distinctive downside to all this. I am indignant at knowing that right after me, a gentleman made more money than me by singing David Lee Roth's Just A Gigolo. He easily cleared $3, the nerve!

Today's Lesson: snow should stay around Christmas and ski resorts.


posted by Phillip at 9:33 AM