35. I live by the river

I summon dogs with my karaoke. This is no easy feat, I should tell you.

It goes something like this:

I have tiptoed around the songs of my favorite punk band (the only band that matters, of course) for far too long. They’re raspy and filled with British punk testosterone and sure I’d sound like a silly little American girl fool singing them, but you know what? I don’t care. I love the Clash and I will sing the Clash.

Now, on the night I decide this, there’s a dog at the bar. Our bar, you see, is not one of those trendy, upscale nightspots, no sir. It’s… well, I don’t quite want to call it a dive, but let’s just say it’s “divesque.”

So, here we are at the bar, me doing everything I can to trash my voice ahead of time (because there’s no point in singing Joe Strummer when I’ve just warmed up to sing Sheena Easton), dog sitting a few tables away, and it’s my turn. I’m singing London Calling.

If you know how the song goes, you can guess the rest. I get into it. I mean really get into it. My voice is gone. By the time I’ve gotten to the part where Joe sings “I live by the riverrrrrr” and follows it up with a “Oo - Oo - Oo - Oo - Oo - Oo - Oo!” I am making some serious noise.

So serious, that, yes indeed, the Oo - Oo - Oos summon the dog. He is up from his loungy spot by the table and in the blink of an eye, he’s at my feet, eyes wide, tail wagging, ready — no, make that desperate — to be Mick Jones to my Joe Strummer.

I’m all set to let him sing the third verse, but much to my dismay (and to the detriment of this particular performance of London Calling) the owner comes up and totes him off by the collar. Poor pooch. I think he missed his calling.

This entry was posted on Saturday, July 28th, 2007 at 11:57 pm and is filed under blogathon 2007. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.