Saturday's birthday karaoke jamboree was a tremendous success and I thank everyone who came out to bring Chelsea to its knees with hard, hard rocking.
Initially, I was up against Stalinist-level censorship from Anna and Carla as they attempted to block the first wave of party pictures, courtesy of Mike Solomon, from being seen. As you can see, they put the screws to him and had some of the hot pix removed:
The first wave of pictures are here!
Now, regardless of what Anna will tell you, everyone looked fantastic and hot and popular. In fact, I will have to say that BY FAR the highlight of the evening was Anna's rendition of Eminem's "The Real Slim Shady," which made niggas wanna weep. John Ness's songbird turn as Jack Black in "Wonderboy" had everyone believing in God again. Amanda Nazario's velvet voice made the ladies cream and the men scream, especially when coupled with her boyfriend Dan's silver-lined tenor during "Thunder Road." Let's not forget the very metal team of Matt Gurwitz and Carrie Canada's channeling of Rush for "Tom Sawyer." Not to be outdone, Jeff and Clara Solomon brought karaoking to new heights with their version of the 80's classic "Livin' On a Prayer" and not a soul was left unrocked by this. When Paul Chaytor set forth the power and the fury of several Oasis songs, let it be said, panties were thrown. Hearts were broken.
But honestly, it was seriously the most fun ever and I am so fortunate to have such amazing friends. Next year? Arm wrestling party.
10 comments:
Hahahahahaha - Gabe, are we forgetting YOUR fabulous rendition of Electric Avenue???? Don't be modest, my 30 year old friend. You stole the show, mister. & the group effort for Under the Sea? Come on. Wow. -AD
and nothing of the collective bust a move? what the eff, man?
two words:
Mother
Mother
two other words:
bradley, falsetto
two more words:
OH NO!
WHO BROKE THE TOILET?!
~Muse Management Ninjas
Cheers to:
a) the kind fellow backing me on "Poison"
b) BBD for writing "Poison"
c) the kind lass who got us all the fuck out of there before the post-7PM rates kicked in, and who then managed the bill. I suck with these, how you say, "names."
d) Gabe, for offering to sex my wife as I left. Chest-punch chest-punch peace sign.
I have some phantaz-dick snaps of my own, most notably of the brothers Solomon, which I'll post on my own blog when I get the chance.
So, um, are we not talking about "Summer Nights"? Because I think maybe we should.
Enough talk about your lame ass sing along. Let's start the preparation for the arm wrestling party. I got dibs on Solomon. All of them. At once.
Wow, I know it's premature, but I'd like to put money on Jonesy now. Is there interest accrued on bets?
As the morning Joe disolves the Wheat Newton between my teeth, I ache to once again control the microphone, the nob-ended steel shaft that brought aural pleasure to all of us who came to that dank Chelsea basement and sweated and wailed last Saturday, our day of pleasure wedged so tightly between our daily grinds... Let's do it again. Soon.
What?
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