Oh god oh god oh god. Deep, stomach-wrenching mortification.
Attended my work holiday party last night. And there it was, my Achilles's Heel: karaoke. It all started out well and good, if severely off-pitch. Sang "New York, New York," my old karaoke standby. And then ... I'm not sure what possessed me (two glasses of merlot?), I got up there again with a co-worker (maintaining her anonymity because she may never forgive me) and chose to sing a duet of ... oh, god ... "Baby Got Back." Yep, Sir Mix-A-Lot. In front of my BOSS and my BOSS'S BOSS. See, I was going for "Wild Thing" on the machine and couldn't find it, was fumbling around for it ... when it finally landed on a song I actually knew, well, what can I say? I had an aneurysm.
Afterward, I was all, hey, no big deal, it was all in good fun, even after leaving the party. But the mortification has sunk in. Dear lord. Aren't your friends supposed to stop you from doing stuff like this?
No pictures for once. Thank god!
5 comments:
Puhleeze! Everyone, bosses included, loved it. I'm sure they admired your courage and spunk!
Heh. Still, "My anaconda don't want none ..."???
I missed that??!! My imagination is conjuring up what is probably a poor image/soundtrack. I'm sure it was great. Sorry I missed the fun, but the concert was good, too! -- Melissa (still can't figure out my Blogger password)
"You got buns, hon."
(Don't let your boss's boss choose the song is my advice.)
P.S. Above lyric is not a reflection on the mistress of karaoke.
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