Last Friday night I celebrated the birthday of my dear friend Chessa, who, besides being a gorgeous and disturbingly gifted karaoke performer, is the woman whose train I'll be holding come July 15th when she gets hitched!
We went to a kitschy 80s dance club/ karaoke lounge where I learned a few important life lessons. First of all, never perform vigorous hip-hop dance moves within two hours of consuming McDonald's french fries. Secondly, a dancefloor designed to look like a Rubik's Cube attracts a special breed of man who is well-groomed but frisky. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, if you are going to sing "Sweet Child Of Mine", you had better have the range for it.
Chessa brought the house down with some Kelly Clarkson ( I LOVE that the cast of 90210 are cheering her on from the left):
I am just starting to realize that the Roger Rabbit has upset the delicate balance of my fast-food-filled stomach:
The next morning I boarded a train for Philadelphia so that I could help my friend Kerry ring in her b'day. I also saw my beautiful sister, Zoe, but you won't see any pictures of her because she has a clause in her contract that she may not be photographed by family members under any circumstances.
Here are some photos of Kerry and the rest of us at the Walnut Room, a swanky club in Center City:
Word to the wise: any cocktail with rosewater in it will taste like shampoo.
I guess I didn't make enough of an ass of myself to make any funny jokes. Well, actually, I DID manage to get shut out of the club without my hat, which was holding my left-over pasta from dinner.
That is pretty stupid.