S A Tur Day…Night…

Vicky is pretty swell. I’ll just start there.

She’s accepted me for all of my faults, and I have a few, for my lunacy, for my baggage – the complete package.

I think I’m gonna keep her.

When it came to meeting Cindy, well, that took some doing. After all, this was the big one, meeting the woman whose kiss had torn my first marriage asunder – if you listen to the rumors. Of course, that’s not exactly what happened. Rosa and I were finished without Cindy’s help; she was just there for the blame. And she kept getting the blame. And the thing is Cindy and I had been friends long before that and I hated leaving her out as “the one friend you don’t ever mention” because, after everything that happened, Cindy and I were friends and that was all.

When Vicky agreed to meet her… I wondered about the catch. What was it? When would Vicky tell me?

Well, here’s the thing. There wasn’t one. Vicky is the kind of person who has to think something over before she agrees, that’s all. That’s the weird thing about her: she often works without ulterior motives and assumes you’ll do the same.

It’s weird but there you are.

And I was glad because not only would I get to hang out with Vicky and Cindy but we’d go to karaoke, too! I got the feeling Vicky wasn’t believing me when I told her that I thought the two would get along but I was telling the truth. They both have very similar senses of humor, similar sensibilities. Sure enough, within moments of meeting, they found things in common and were joking around.

That’s just the first half of the story… the other half… well… it’s karaoke.

One of my early book ideas was for one called “The King of Karaoke”. As with many of my early ideas, I was really excited about it and then it drifted off like something come in on the tides only to be snatched away again. All I was left with was the title. And the title is fitting because, once upon a time, I was a karaoke… well, pretender to the throne, at least. I had a terrific voice and I could sing just about anything.

Notice the past tense.

After the cold I had during December and January – could have been the flu, could have been bronchitis, could have been pneumonia for all I knew – my throat had been thrashed by weeks of furious coughing. I didn’t know if my voice would be up to karaoke.

It wasn’t.

Now, before you laugh yourself into a spasm, let me remind you that I’m going to be auditioning again this summer in the hopes of getting into another show. Well, no singing voice means that musicals are right out. And I like singing. I’ve been in my share of musicals and I’ve fronted for two bands – Ken with no singing voice is like Ken with no fingers (for typing, you see).

No sir, I don’t like it.

So, my resolve against smoking is thusly fortified. I will get my voice back again… or croak trying. (No, I mean like a frog.)

Yes, that means more karaoke. But the upside is that, while Cindy and I used to mock karaoke singers oh so many years ago, now Vicky and Cindy and I can mock together! (Dammit, and I thought I’d make it through this without any threesome references!)