If you ever have the opportunity to have your name in lights on the marquee, you should probably attend that karaoke theme night. Which is exactly what Sleepless and I did when we saw “Old Fogie Oke Presented by……” on the marquee of our favorite dive bar.
I’ve got a lot of stuff in my box (note to MissInformation: I do prefer to pick what I put in my box), but I don’t have any clothing for mature adults. Thus, a shopping excursion was in order. We found everything we needed for this glorious event. Seersucker casual Dior, plaid polyester leisure suit, snap front house dresses, velcro sandals, glasses, wigs, rain bonnets, Depends and canes. Being that we had a conference the day of the event, we also found a karaoke must-have: colleagues.
Calling The Dog had reserved a suite at the hotel, so we met there for pre-drinks. She had come prepared with two bottles of wine and three bottles of beer. Legal Barista and I decided to contribute to the open bar and purchased two more bottles of wine. Being that the suite was only prepped for two, we had to bring our own glasses, which was easy since we were at a hotel. We stocked up on wine glasses from the conference tables (thank God my purse is big) and were ready for a baker’s dozen.
As we were imbibing and sharing work stories, we started talking about from where we all hailed. The question soon came my way, “Where do you come from?” Feeling a bit spirited, I responded, “My vagina.” It’s funny how quickly you learn that you all have something in common.
Although not all of my colleagues had originally planned on attending karaoke, by the time we could see the bottom of the bottles, most of them had decided to join us. By this time I had contacted my personal driver, Mohamed Ali, and he had agreed to retrieve us from my home. Like a convoy, with designated drivers (yes, even we’re responsible), we headed to my house to dress-up for the event.
Never Had One provided me a safe ride home and, to show thanks, Sleepless and I let her have her choice of clothing from our fine collection. The others soon arrived and selected something to compliment their already saucy attire – a house dress or Depends for Women seemed to be the preferred accent. Just as we were finishing donning our mature attire, Mohamed Ali arrived and joined us in the parlor.
Being the most responsible and designated driver, Mohamed Ali lead the convoy – even pulling over to allow the others time to catch up. At one point, I started counting my money. $5. Sleepless informed me she had some cash, $5. We were several miles away from the bar and, according to the meter and my superb math, we were about two dollars away from not being able to pay. “You might have to drop us off at $8,” I told Mohamed Ali. “Why?” he asked. “We only have $10 and I want to be able to tip you,” I humbly replied. “No, it is OK. I take you all the way and you not worry about it,” he replied. “Ah, the circle of love,” Sleepless commented from the back seat, “You’re in the circle.”
I was in the circle of love. Mohamed Ali happily accepted our measly payment and I promised to make it up to him next time. The marquee was lit and blazing bright. Plus, I arrived to find D-Dog, Passed The Sniff Test, P-Dub, Drop Zone and Giddy Up ready and waiting for us. Sleepless and I took the stage, in full glory – sans canes, short-term memory loss caused us to forget them – and belted out some of our best tunes surrounded by some of the most Dependsable friends ever.