Carry Oakey

I love karaoke. I won't hide it. I think it's great. I've only been a couple of times, but each time has been radder than rad, one evening even culminating in two friends performing an extremely fun version of I Want You to Want Me that was so monumental, the entire bar started a dance party behind them on stage. Cheap Trick would have been proud.

The second time I went karaoke-ing public style, the final performer ended up doing an unfortunate strip tease to whatever Britney song of the hour, glorifying the stage in his undies. It was moderately traumatizing, and that, coupled with last call, cleared the bar quickly.

Recently, I had the most fabulous karaoke experience. I was hanging out in Pleasanton with my parents; we went to a movie and out to dinner with Mish and her folks. Upon return home for dessert and coffee, we busted out the Playstation American Idol karaoke. Between Nelson (those blonde twins, remember More Than Words?) and old Christina A. and that song All My Life by KC and JoJo that used to play at every junior high dance I ever went to, the karaoke experience could be called nothing other than decadent. My dad commented that it thought it was fantastic that Mish and I (and our generation in general) had no qualms about getting down with gusto to the songs. And get down we did.

But the highlight of the evening, that will be forever impossible to top, was my mother and Jan's (Mish's mom) rendition of Proud Mary by Creedance Clearwater Revival. It was the first time my mom had ever karaoked and she was amazing. We all joined in (how could we not?!?), my dad even doing the deep background "Rollin" from the easy chair.
Mish and Jan: Mom and Jan throwning down Proud Mary:

good, good times.