Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Karoke Bar Brawls
Inspired by the brawl that ended karaoke early on Saturday night for my first excursion to see DJ Purple at the Swingin' Door in San Mateo, I decided to post my very first blog about karaoke and how I feel somehow that my mojo is messing up the karaoke vibe. It seems these fights are following me not just around SF now, but down to the Peninsula. Let's see if we can break the spell, commit it to print, and disperse the curse. It's karaoke not a prize fight! July 9th marks my 5th karaoke bar fight this year. This time, thankfully, I was NOT a participant!
At Pandora in San Francisco May 1st, in the year of our Lord 2001 Suzanne Carmody and I were attending Glenny Kravitz karaoke gig on Eddy in the Tenderloin. The night draws to a close, and it's last call. As everyone is crowding the bar to get their last licks in, it looked as if a Latin fellow who'd bid adieu to his compadres might've nudged or stepped on a fellow of an Asian persuasion and rubbed him the wrong way. Next thing you know 20 guys are lumping on this 1 poor fellow. He got knocked around like a pinball in a machine between bumpers and traps. Topside he cried regaling the cops with his tale of woe. "I didn't do anything," was his pitiful decree. I felt so bad for the little man. He looked like he just went toe to toe with Clubber Lang.
It gets WORSE. We think it's all over until we step onto the street above ground. The clubs surrounding the karaoke bar are emptying out too. To the right a club with a predominantly African American crowd emerges from upstairs. To the left a very Asian crowd exits their chosen club, and they ALL converge on Eddy drunk, easily offended, and ready to throw down. It was thugs on thugs on our right. In front of us and to the left are girls in 6 inch heels and dresses cut to their cooters trying to beat each other up with all 80 lbs of force behind it. Boyfriends are carrying them off trying to prevent the snatching of hair and tearing of clothes.
The cops are already there for the Pandora melee and immediately MORE join them. One cop was getting battered by one corn rowed thug and as he reached back with his club about to strike he was saved by a thick bootied woman who threw herself in front of him to shield him from the impending blow which stopped short of striking her in the chest. She raised her arms in defense begging him to stop, and that thug was lucky because that girl saved his black ass! That's for DAMN sure! It would've been Rodney King up in that mother fucker had she not! Suzanne and I cross the street to take everything in and decided that we really needed to pick a calmer night than Friday to come to Pandora because obviously it was too "happenin" of a night for the two of us!
At Butter in South of Market in San Francisco, my former roommate Tammy Alcantara and I were at Roger Niner's karaoke show as was becoming our regular custom in those days. We were having a good 'ole time when lo and behold who should darken our doorstep, but Bassy Stacy. Mind you she's not even worthy of the title "nemesis." She's just a racist who tried to steal my friend's man. We'll just call her a triflin' hoe. Shall we? Let's! She tried to kiss Tammy's boyfriend at the time, and he flat out refused. BURNED! You can actually listen to that wanna be whore's radio show on Pirate Cat Radio that not so edgy or underground station that it used to be back in the day.
Stacy walks in as is her custom with an entourage of metal fans or rivet heads. This time it's a Swedish metal band that just played nearby on 11th Street. Tammy gets up to sing her song, which MIND you, Niner is VERY popular, so she had to put this song in WAY before Stacy even walked in to get her turn at that moment. She chose Tammy Wynette's "You Ain't Woman Enough to Take my Man." Stacy took it personal and got VERY offended, and slapped Tammy in the face WHILE she's STILL singing, mind you! Tammy chin checked her back, and that's when I turned and spotted Stacy's expression change from bad to worse. I lip read her "oh hell no," and how she was about to "kick her ass." I did what any good friend would do. I got in the middle and threw myself between my friend and the idiot I jello wrestled a few years ago and BEAT after she tried choking me out which by the way IS NOT WRESTLING.
I hadn't seen the previous exchange of blows because I was preoccupied dancing around to the song I chose for her with my back turned. Tammy finished her song, and we watched during as Stacy got thrown out and eight sixed. Suzanne made out with the lead singer of that Swedish Metal band. We rocked out with the rest of his bandmates, and we all crashed at my apartment with our clothes and make up still on the next day. Still reeling and draggin it in to work the next day because that's how we karaoke chicks roll! Count that. That's 2 brawls Suzanne and I witnessed. This time, I am an accessory.
Cat Club on Folsom in South of Market, San Francisco is right around the corner where I used to live. I tried to make it my new living room like Gestalt Haus in the Mission used to be, but it just didn't take. This night is one of the reasons why. My reputation as a trouble maker would just grow from here. My now exboyfriend who had been texting an exlover of mine for some time. He had talked HELLA smack for about a month before this interaction occurred. He had been warned, and we knew there was a great likelihood that Brian would be there to settle the score as promised. He was sick of being harrassed by my ex and had had enough! We were on a break after all. The idiot had moved away. What's a girl supposed to do? I broke up with him before he left. Duh! Long distance relationships DON'T WORK!
Brian storms in as Mike tears in from outside. He had gone to smoke. "Oh God, here comes that crazy guy!" he mutters under his breath as he sits down next to me. Brian comes right up in his face and is nose to nose with him. "I warned you. Didn't I? I told you. I would come to YOU." He is visibly angry. Just when I thought he'd take Mike's wimpy apology, he knocks him one right in the face swift and LOUD. I hear the bone crack between knuckle and face, and I sit stupefied for a second. He lunges forward again, Mike holding his eye saying, "he just hit me!" Brian won't back down. He's still in Mike's face when I put my hand on his shoulder and say, "that's enough." He relaxes his jaw a little just as his friend comes to collect pulling him back arm over shoulder across the chest and they back out of the bar heading for the door
Inwardly, I'm grinning ear to ear because, well, he BEGGED for it. I'll admit. It made me hot. For Mike's sake, I kept my composure. My heart departed the relationship 4 months prior when he left me in SF to go to San Marcos. Long story, I digress... It was known as the shortest quietest bar fight in the history of fights that night. No one even knew, saw, or noticed until the aftermath, but like a TRUE karaoke G, Mike sang out his last song, swollen black eye and all.
Benders Bar has karaoke only on the last Friday of every month which coincidentally is also Critical Mass in the City, the lovely lady KJ Eileen does her thing. It is also the scene of bar fight numero quatro. I break up with Mike for the LAST time. I am on night 6 of karaoke and have been running this exhausting gamut hopping from bar to bar all week delirious, sobering, and bone tired, but trying to keep my momentum up by putting on an optimistic and brave face. I flash Solimo in the window because he keeps peeping in the window above us, and it seemed like the thing to do at the time because if he's gonna keep looking in here, I might as well give him something worth lookin' at, right?
He's not laughing, but we are thinking this is hilarious. We're flippin' him off and havin' a ball. Even KJ Kendo was there! He witnessed the whole thing. Shenanigans... Anyway, I go outside to confront Solimo about who does he think he is bein' too cool to say "hi" all these years. WE know all the same people. We attend and regular the SAME bars. Doesn't he have any damn manners?! Well that speech never came about. Some little messenger groupie interrupted the grown folks while they were talking, and started yapping like a chihuahua at me from behind, and I just ignored her until Tammy (count three now where Tammy and I are involved) turned the corner and started lipping right back at her.
I shook my damn head inwardly, but I couldn't show dissension in the ranks, so I just let her do her thing. Next thing I know bitch hits Tammy and Tammy chin checks her back. I excuse myself, and I swiftly made my way in between them pick this twat up right off her track bike by the neck and shove her up against the window and pushed ALL of my 220 lbs at the time against her bike frame pinning her against the bricks outside. "I told you that if you wanted to talk that you should dismount, didn't I?" I did. I told her politely a few moments ago before Tammy tore around the corner that she should unclip if she wanted to talk because she was at a very big disadvantage there.
I squoze (yes, I made that word up, it should be a word, dammit! I own it! Me!) her neck until I heard her squeak and felt the delicate bones of her throat start to pinch shut from the pressure I was putting on her windpipe, then I dropped her. I turned around and marched right back to Solimo to have my damn speech. Then Tammy and this hipster bitch continue shootin' the dozens. Tammy just wants to fight and this girl is just trying to show off to her messenger buddies that she bad. She ain't hood like WE hood. She just picked the WRONG night and the WRONG girls to talk shit to! The fight begins and ends again with the girl about to ride off then she comes back at Tammy's egging.
I pull my knife. Her tall male messenger friend taunts me with, "what are you going to do with that pen knife," he smirks and scoffs. Me, I stupidly announce, "If she doesn't leave, I'm going to flatten her tires with it and beat her with it with her own bike! It's small enough to hide anywhere. Cops will never find it." He suddenly grabs my hand with it in it, and shoves his other hand in my face, so I can't see. Tammy is still yelling, and Solimo is telling the girl to get the hell on trying to shove her back on her bike to take off, but her and Tammy are squaring off and he's trying to get in the middle of them both. Her friends finally get her on her bike and shuffle her off. No cops were called. On the whole, it was an end to an interesting MONTH of karaoke brawls!
I haven't seen hide nor hair of that girl again since, but I love how she yelled back as she was riding away how we should, "never come back here again, you hear!" Yeah, us. The locals, the born and bred here to stay, we should NEVER come back again. HAHAHAHA! We still joke about that. I have a nice faint little scar where my glasses bent that night on my check by my lip. If I see that girl again, I'll give her something to cry aboot or a bill for my replacement glasses. I haven't quite decided which!
Saturday July 9th at the Swingin' Door, DJ Purple is slangin karaoke to a hoppin but manageable crowd for once at the Door. I'm thinking, "awesome, I can get at least 2 songs in before last call!" WRONG! A Tongan guy and 3 Tongan girls outside in the back patio were fighting. Over what? I have no idea, and it's NONE OF MY DAMN BUSINESS! I'm just thinking to myself, "oh god, now it's a Polynesian bar, and my days are numbered here at this bar." They come in like a roiling ball of anger and bodies from the back patio right into the center of the bar where the speakers and KJ are. I announce to everyone as the cops pile in, "when did this become a Polynesian bar?!" The Thai woman laughs next to me, "right?" She is sitting on my right with her husband who is unamused. He's trying to tell her they should leave because it's getting violent, but like me she wants to stay and sing and dance! I'm with her! Unfortunately, they cut us off. The sound is off, and DJ Purple is done an HOUR early for the night. To say the least, I was very disappointed.
Moral of the story is take your issues and channel them into singing. It's way more gratifying and therapeutic than fighting.
At Pandora in San Francisco May 1st, in the year of our Lord 2001 Suzanne Carmody and I were attending Glenny Kravitz karaoke gig on Eddy in the Tenderloin. The night draws to a close, and it's last call. As everyone is crowding the bar to get their last licks in, it looked as if a Latin fellow who'd bid adieu to his compadres might've nudged or stepped on a fellow of an Asian persuasion and rubbed him the wrong way. Next thing you know 20 guys are lumping on this 1 poor fellow. He got knocked around like a pinball in a machine between bumpers and traps. Topside he cried regaling the cops with his tale of woe. "I didn't do anything," was his pitiful decree. I felt so bad for the little man. He looked like he just went toe to toe with Clubber Lang.
It gets WORSE. We think it's all over until we step onto the street above ground. The clubs surrounding the karaoke bar are emptying out too. To the right a club with a predominantly African American crowd emerges from upstairs. To the left a very Asian crowd exits their chosen club, and they ALL converge on Eddy drunk, easily offended, and ready to throw down. It was thugs on thugs on our right. In front of us and to the left are girls in 6 inch heels and dresses cut to their cooters trying to beat each other up with all 80 lbs of force behind it. Boyfriends are carrying them off trying to prevent the snatching of hair and tearing of clothes.
The cops are already there for the Pandora melee and immediately MORE join them. One cop was getting battered by one corn rowed thug and as he reached back with his club about to strike he was saved by a thick bootied woman who threw herself in front of him to shield him from the impending blow which stopped short of striking her in the chest. She raised her arms in defense begging him to stop, and that thug was lucky because that girl saved his black ass! That's for DAMN sure! It would've been Rodney King up in that mother fucker had she not! Suzanne and I cross the street to take everything in and decided that we really needed to pick a calmer night than Friday to come to Pandora because obviously it was too "happenin" of a night for the two of us!
At Butter in South of Market in San Francisco, my former roommate Tammy Alcantara and I were at Roger Niner's karaoke show as was becoming our regular custom in those days. We were having a good 'ole time when lo and behold who should darken our doorstep, but Bassy Stacy. Mind you she's not even worthy of the title "nemesis." She's just a racist who tried to steal my friend's man. We'll just call her a triflin' hoe. Shall we? Let's! She tried to kiss Tammy's boyfriend at the time, and he flat out refused. BURNED! You can actually listen to that wanna be whore's radio show on Pirate Cat Radio that not so edgy or underground station that it used to be back in the day.
Stacy walks in as is her custom with an entourage of metal fans or rivet heads. This time it's a Swedish metal band that just played nearby on 11th Street. Tammy gets up to sing her song, which MIND you, Niner is VERY popular, so she had to put this song in WAY before Stacy even walked in to get her turn at that moment. She chose Tammy Wynette's "You Ain't Woman Enough to Take my Man." Stacy took it personal and got VERY offended, and slapped Tammy in the face WHILE she's STILL singing, mind you! Tammy chin checked her back, and that's when I turned and spotted Stacy's expression change from bad to worse. I lip read her "oh hell no," and how she was about to "kick her ass." I did what any good friend would do. I got in the middle and threw myself between my friend and the idiot I jello wrestled a few years ago and BEAT after she tried choking me out which by the way IS NOT WRESTLING.
I hadn't seen the previous exchange of blows because I was preoccupied dancing around to the song I chose for her with my back turned. Tammy finished her song, and we watched during as Stacy got thrown out and eight sixed. Suzanne made out with the lead singer of that Swedish Metal band. We rocked out with the rest of his bandmates, and we all crashed at my apartment with our clothes and make up still on the next day. Still reeling and draggin it in to work the next day because that's how we karaoke chicks roll! Count that. That's 2 brawls Suzanne and I witnessed. This time, I am an accessory.
Cat Club on Folsom in South of Market, San Francisco is right around the corner where I used to live. I tried to make it my new living room like Gestalt Haus in the Mission used to be, but it just didn't take. This night is one of the reasons why. My reputation as a trouble maker would just grow from here. My now exboyfriend who had been texting an exlover of mine for some time. He had talked HELLA smack for about a month before this interaction occurred. He had been warned, and we knew there was a great likelihood that Brian would be there to settle the score as promised. He was sick of being harrassed by my ex and had had enough! We were on a break after all. The idiot had moved away. What's a girl supposed to do? I broke up with him before he left. Duh! Long distance relationships DON'T WORK!
Brian storms in as Mike tears in from outside. He had gone to smoke. "Oh God, here comes that crazy guy!" he mutters under his breath as he sits down next to me. Brian comes right up in his face and is nose to nose with him. "I warned you. Didn't I? I told you. I would come to YOU." He is visibly angry. Just when I thought he'd take Mike's wimpy apology, he knocks him one right in the face swift and LOUD. I hear the bone crack between knuckle and face, and I sit stupefied for a second. He lunges forward again, Mike holding his eye saying, "he just hit me!" Brian won't back down. He's still in Mike's face when I put my hand on his shoulder and say, "that's enough." He relaxes his jaw a little just as his friend comes to collect pulling him back arm over shoulder across the chest and they back out of the bar heading for the door
Inwardly, I'm grinning ear to ear because, well, he BEGGED for it. I'll admit. It made me hot. For Mike's sake, I kept my composure. My heart departed the relationship 4 months prior when he left me in SF to go to San Marcos. Long story, I digress... It was known as the shortest quietest bar fight in the history of fights that night. No one even knew, saw, or noticed until the aftermath, but like a TRUE karaoke G, Mike sang out his last song, swollen black eye and all.
Benders Bar has karaoke only on the last Friday of every month which coincidentally is also Critical Mass in the City, the lovely lady KJ Eileen does her thing. It is also the scene of bar fight numero quatro. I break up with Mike for the LAST time. I am on night 6 of karaoke and have been running this exhausting gamut hopping from bar to bar all week delirious, sobering, and bone tired, but trying to keep my momentum up by putting on an optimistic and brave face. I flash Solimo in the window because he keeps peeping in the window above us, and it seemed like the thing to do at the time because if he's gonna keep looking in here, I might as well give him something worth lookin' at, right?
He's not laughing, but we are thinking this is hilarious. We're flippin' him off and havin' a ball. Even KJ Kendo was there! He witnessed the whole thing. Shenanigans... Anyway, I go outside to confront Solimo about who does he think he is bein' too cool to say "hi" all these years. WE know all the same people. We attend and regular the SAME bars. Doesn't he have any damn manners?! Well that speech never came about. Some little messenger groupie interrupted the grown folks while they were talking, and started yapping like a chihuahua at me from behind, and I just ignored her until Tammy (count three now where Tammy and I are involved) turned the corner and started lipping right back at her.
I shook my damn head inwardly, but I couldn't show dissension in the ranks, so I just let her do her thing. Next thing I know bitch hits Tammy and Tammy chin checks her back. I excuse myself, and I swiftly made my way in between them pick this twat up right off her track bike by the neck and shove her up against the window and pushed ALL of my 220 lbs at the time against her bike frame pinning her against the bricks outside. "I told you that if you wanted to talk that you should dismount, didn't I?" I did. I told her politely a few moments ago before Tammy tore around the corner that she should unclip if she wanted to talk because she was at a very big disadvantage there.
I squoze (yes, I made that word up, it should be a word, dammit! I own it! Me!) her neck until I heard her squeak and felt the delicate bones of her throat start to pinch shut from the pressure I was putting on her windpipe, then I dropped her. I turned around and marched right back to Solimo to have my damn speech. Then Tammy and this hipster bitch continue shootin' the dozens. Tammy just wants to fight and this girl is just trying to show off to her messenger buddies that she bad. She ain't hood like WE hood. She just picked the WRONG night and the WRONG girls to talk shit to! The fight begins and ends again with the girl about to ride off then she comes back at Tammy's egging.
I pull my knife. Her tall male messenger friend taunts me with, "what are you going to do with that pen knife," he smirks and scoffs. Me, I stupidly announce, "If she doesn't leave, I'm going to flatten her tires with it and beat her with it with her own bike! It's small enough to hide anywhere. Cops will never find it." He suddenly grabs my hand with it in it, and shoves his other hand in my face, so I can't see. Tammy is still yelling, and Solimo is telling the girl to get the hell on trying to shove her back on her bike to take off, but her and Tammy are squaring off and he's trying to get in the middle of them both. Her friends finally get her on her bike and shuffle her off. No cops were called. On the whole, it was an end to an interesting MONTH of karaoke brawls!
I haven't seen hide nor hair of that girl again since, but I love how she yelled back as she was riding away how we should, "never come back here again, you hear!" Yeah, us. The locals, the born and bred here to stay, we should NEVER come back again. HAHAHAHA! We still joke about that. I have a nice faint little scar where my glasses bent that night on my check by my lip. If I see that girl again, I'll give her something to cry aboot or a bill for my replacement glasses. I haven't quite decided which!
Saturday July 9th at the Swingin' Door, DJ Purple is slangin karaoke to a hoppin but manageable crowd for once at the Door. I'm thinking, "awesome, I can get at least 2 songs in before last call!" WRONG! A Tongan guy and 3 Tongan girls outside in the back patio were fighting. Over what? I have no idea, and it's NONE OF MY DAMN BUSINESS! I'm just thinking to myself, "oh god, now it's a Polynesian bar, and my days are numbered here at this bar." They come in like a roiling ball of anger and bodies from the back patio right into the center of the bar where the speakers and KJ are. I announce to everyone as the cops pile in, "when did this become a Polynesian bar?!" The Thai woman laughs next to me, "right?" She is sitting on my right with her husband who is unamused. He's trying to tell her they should leave because it's getting violent, but like me she wants to stay and sing and dance! I'm with her! Unfortunately, they cut us off. The sound is off, and DJ Purple is done an HOUR early for the night. To say the least, I was very disappointed.
Moral of the story is take your issues and channel them into singing. It's way more gratifying and therapeutic than fighting.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Karoke Factions, Groupies, and Addicts
It's easy to stumble to a karaoke venue drunk or get dragged in through peer pressure. You drink some more. A little liquid courage has encouraged many a body to get up and sing. Even at the coercion of friends, coworkers, and family members, it's not hard to get pushed into the spotlight. Some people loathe karaoke. They can't stand the idea or the sound. Others adore it! Guess which category I fall under? I've been going a very long time. I seek it out. I figured out a long time ago, that on any given night from Sunday to Thursday, the bar's usually slow and off nights, there would be a karaoke spot somewhere in every town EVERYWHERE. I've attended in many different cities, states, and even countries.
I remember back when karaoke, like Country, wasn't cool. In most of the country, it STILL isn't cool. However, it's picking up steam and is no longer for the random piano bar with it's gay, elderly and/or Asian persuasions. Oh no, karaoke has become its own leviathan. It is a monster unto itself! It is all consuming. It is demanding. It is challenging and at times VERY gratifying. It satisfies that need deep down inside to be recognized, to be famous if but for a fleeting moment only. It stimulates your imagination. It boosts your morale and self esteem. It is therapy for many and cheaper than a shrink. It is an addiction for others and hard to stop once bitten by it. For some, like myself, it's a predilection. Those called to it are relentless. There is a reason they call us "fans." The word is derived from fanatic. Fanatic is not too far from lunatic. We just have more focus on what we decide we are crazy about.
Have you ever run the gamut 2 weeks in a row not missing a night of karaoke because you broke up with your boyfriend? Have you ever hit up 5 or more karaoke spots in one night in an attempt to achieve a new personal best or to celebrate a birthday? Karaoke bar hopping is my favorite sport. Have you ever been handed homework, studied, practiced, and dressed up for an event like a show? Well, that's how karaoke has evolved. It is no longer just a passive sport. There are costumes, instruments, elaborate set ups, teams, musical theme nights, air bands. It takes audience participation, but at some venues this requires more effort. That's where the factions, addicts, and groupies come in. As a karaoke jockey your following is almost your pay to play as a musician. You draw the crowd, the bar makes money, they pay you, AND you make tips. That's how it works.
Each karaoke jockey or KJ has a following no matter how large or small. There is always a group or table of regulars that will attend every night of the week some multiple nights a week to show love and support. KJ's will post themes online of what musical concept they expect their minions to choose appropriate songs for them to download and have available for them to sing if they aren't on their list already. Other special nights, it might be a type of group of people from a specific industry that will attend once a month at a new karaoke venue every time. It could be a specific band that the KJ assigns everyone must sing from and learn. There might be elaborate staged and semi organized teams who dress in costume, come in character, and set up props for a song. These dedicated people who have devoted their night lives to this pursuit entertain as well as encourage each other.
I hope to see you there and know you'll want to join the circus yourself. Catch the fever!
I remember back when karaoke, like Country, wasn't cool. In most of the country, it STILL isn't cool. However, it's picking up steam and is no longer for the random piano bar with it's gay, elderly and/or Asian persuasions. Oh no, karaoke has become its own leviathan. It is a monster unto itself! It is all consuming. It is demanding. It is challenging and at times VERY gratifying. It satisfies that need deep down inside to be recognized, to be famous if but for a fleeting moment only. It stimulates your imagination. It boosts your morale and self esteem. It is therapy for many and cheaper than a shrink. It is an addiction for others and hard to stop once bitten by it. For some, like myself, it's a predilection. Those called to it are relentless. There is a reason they call us "fans." The word is derived from fanatic. Fanatic is not too far from lunatic. We just have more focus on what we decide we are crazy about.
Have you ever run the gamut 2 weeks in a row not missing a night of karaoke because you broke up with your boyfriend? Have you ever hit up 5 or more karaoke spots in one night in an attempt to achieve a new personal best or to celebrate a birthday? Karaoke bar hopping is my favorite sport. Have you ever been handed homework, studied, practiced, and dressed up for an event like a show? Well, that's how karaoke has evolved. It is no longer just a passive sport. There are costumes, instruments, elaborate set ups, teams, musical theme nights, air bands. It takes audience participation, but at some venues this requires more effort. That's where the factions, addicts, and groupies come in. As a karaoke jockey your following is almost your pay to play as a musician. You draw the crowd, the bar makes money, they pay you, AND you make tips. That's how it works.
Each karaoke jockey or KJ has a following no matter how large or small. There is always a group or table of regulars that will attend every night of the week some multiple nights a week to show love and support. KJ's will post themes online of what musical concept they expect their minions to choose appropriate songs for them to download and have available for them to sing if they aren't on their list already. Other special nights, it might be a type of group of people from a specific industry that will attend once a month at a new karaoke venue every time. It could be a specific band that the KJ assigns everyone must sing from and learn. There might be elaborate staged and semi organized teams who dress in costume, come in character, and set up props for a song. These dedicated people who have devoted their night lives to this pursuit entertain as well as encourage each other.
I hope to see you there and know you'll want to join the circus yourself. Catch the fever!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)