“Going out to sing means you have to adopt a staunch
pro-believin’ stance. But it also means you have to suspend your rational
doubts. “Don’t Stop Believin’” isn’t about actually believing in anything, just
as nobody in “Livin’ on a Prayer” prays for anything in particular. The belief
is in belief itself; the prayer is just for more prayers.”
–Rob Sheffield, Turn Around Bright Eyes: The Rituals of Love
and Karaoke
“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad.”—Carly
Rae Jepsen
Saturday was my church’s Diwali celebration (Unitarians feel
entitled to any holiday we choose, that’s one of the things I like about us.)
and I’d originally planned to go in early to help with the feast, but my day had
been so fantastically indulgent and dawdly that I was nowhere near ready to
leave at the appointed time. Sweetie and I heated up some frozen samosas and
naan and had our own little Diwali feast at home, while watching Top Chef.
My suitcase was packed for Kinky Karaoke, so I hoped that
the service wouldn’t be too long. When I got out of the car at church, most
people were already inside and I was alone in the woodsy church parking lot
with the brightest moon you’d ever see, peeking through clouds that were
fluffily arranged in rows across the sky like the stuffing of a comforter. The
path to the church was lined with star lanterns, and the walk in ended up to be
the most transcendent part of the service.
Usually our Diwali is a joyful affair, with lots of singing
and dancing and making art out of flower petals, but this year, the pastor
began the service with an admonition that children should not be allowed to run
around in the aisles, and it continued in that tone. In place of any religious
experience, there was a lecture, complete with PowerPoint. One of the great
joys of adulthood is that if you’re sitting in your church pew stifling yawns,
you’re allowed to just get up and leave.
I was happy to venture back out into the clear, starry
night. I got in the car and set the GPS for the out-of-the-way corner of the
city where the Karaoke King and Queen live, turned up my Training Montage mix,
and belted out every song along the way.
Pretty Slave has a wonderfully geeky bumper sticker on her
car that reads:
And whenever I see it, I get all bubbly-over with joy. I was
also excited that I’d see The Lady of the House, who was my main inspiration
for showing up that night. I walked in
to many hugs and felt so excited that I’d recovered so quickly from last weekend’s
triggers enough to come.
I’m so grateful that I am me, and that these are my friends.
I don’t know what they were doing over at the Scary Party, but I’m pretty sure
nobody was sitting in anybody’s lap dueting “Piano Man” at full force (high
five, Cute Master!) or singing Cee-Lo in their underpants. (I didn’t arrive
with much bitterness in my heart, but “Fuck You” really is the very best
karaoke song ever.)
Pretty Slave told me I’m prettier than ribbons and Cute
Master was sweet and sympathetic about the heart-hurts of last week. I was
touched at his recalling that this house was where we met over the summer. “I
fingered you right over there,” he said “It’s too bad they moved the couch!”
And then! Some people I didn’t know I’d been wanting to see!
Remember the munch I cried at toward the end of the summer? Okay, doesn’t
really narrow it down, but the night that I was soothed by the nice ladies
goofing around and bringing Long Island iced teas, Mrs. Sweetface was one of
the ladies doing the soothing. (Not to be confused with Ms. Sweetheart. The
naming part’s not as easy as it looks.) We’d joked about me becoming Mr.
Sweetface’s cuddle partner, since she’s not so into that part. I’d yet to meet
him and I couldn’t believe she remembered that, but it was the first thing she
said: “Your cuddle buddy’s upstairs.”
When she introduced him, he said “Oh, that was you?”
“Yep! If we’re gonna cuddle, we’d better start practicing!”
I said, pulling this complete stranger into a hug. It was a hug with a little
spark of energy, with potential. Clearly it was time to employ my “Talk to the
cute couple until they’re doing stuff to me” strategy, which I devised the last
time I was here.
But first, lots and lots of songs. Pretty Slave and I did
our song, “Call Me Maybe,” of course, and then the young woman that CS and PM
are dating (I don’t think she’d mind being named “Their Girl”) joined us for
Nikki Minaj’s “Starships,” which is totally my top Training Montage hit. The
Lady of the House seduced our hearts with some Steely Dan, and then teamed up
with me on my song of the year, “I Just Can’t Get Enough.” This is how I was
born to be, stripped down to my basic ridiculous histrionics and enjoying the
fuck out of my friends.
Incidentally, I got a chance to talk with Their Girl and
found out that she’d left that party a few weeks ago because she got jealous—of
me! It was strange to be on the other side of that equation! I told her she
should have joined in and we made plans to conspire against Pretty Slave and
Cute Master at the earliest opportunity.
A couple of times during the evening, the Karaoke Queen took
a break from her hostessing duties to bend over and get some spanks, and just
like that, another sweet little bottom for me. Even though they were just
playful party spanks, she got all melty in my arms afterwards and I loved the
power of getting to make my friend so woozy-happy. Plus, the Lady of the House
was watching and looked impressed—I like that.
Next: Eeeee! Yesyesyes I got tied to another girl!