Posts tagged ‘Peter Frampton’

December 2, 2011

Glory Hole Bee Gee Hell: A WNF 3-Way

edited by ANDREW J HICKS

Liverpool, 1979: Mama Cass gets down and dirty at the Bee Gee glory hole.

JOHNNY RODRIGUEZ
My bedroom window sucks as a glory hole. Nothing glorious about it.

ERTEL GRAY
Oh, the entire concept of a glory hole just… I don’t know if I can place that level of trust in an unseen, anonymous stranger. “Hi… Yep, first time… Anyway, here’s my peen.”

EMILY TOOPS
Agreed. I mean, you gotta be ballsy to use a glory hole.

JOHNNY RODRIGUEZ
But not too ballsy, ’cause balls wont fit thru there.

ERTEL GRAY
My luck, on even my most sexually adventurous of days, I’d wind up on the business end of a scalpel-wielding psychopath known as the Glory Hole Weenis Collector or something. Course, the upside of being a eunuch is, I could always front a Bee Gees tribute band.

JOHNNY RODRIGUEZ
Fuck yeah! I love the Bee Gees!

ERTEL GRAY
How many of them have died? The other two, right? I just heard Robin has some sort of cancer?

EMILY TOOPS
Yeah, I thought two of the three died of cancer. God hated those Brothers Gibb.

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November 9, 2011

The Majesty of Karaoke

by ERTEL GRAY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

Karaoke: Where the world's most attractive people huddle together and scream beautifully into a microphone.

“For every failed singer in this world, there is a karaoke DJ eating his weight in hot wings by dim light.”
-Voltaire

The ancient Japanese art of karaoke has never really seemed to hit its zenith in America. Even today, every bar you go to has at least one karaoke night on its chalkboard schedule, nestled between $2 Pitcher Tuesday and Thirsty Thursday.

So what’s the appeal? For every Joe Average, maybe it’s the dream of wooing a lady friend with a mystical version of Peter Frampton‘s “Baby, I Love Your Way.” In reality, the alcohol involved always seems to transform Frampton’s ode to loving a female’s way into a horribly off-key, off-rhythm “‘OohbabeeILove…’ where am I? The damn screen’s moving too fast. Where’s Brenda at? Get up here, y’whore! ‘WannaTeeellYou…'”

Karaoke, at its crux, is basic good fun. No one’s there to judge your performance. Oh sure, that guy who just threw up on his shirt sorta looks like Simon Cowell, but remember: you’re wearing beer goggles. I lied about the “no one’s judging you” thing, actually. If you’re singing, you should be aware that I am judging you based on pitch, vocal range and choice of material. I am your own… personal… Cowell.

But you’re not going to win a recording contract and/or make millions with me. I’m judging you solely because I don’t want to make the same mistakes you do. Recently, I made plans to go out with a girl (yeah, I was surprised, too) who absolutely loves to sing. And apparently displays the same lack of shame that I do. A keeper? After tonight’s debacle? Right? (Right!) You’re bloody well right!

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