Five Tips for Becoming a Karaoke Superstar: Be Drunk, Don't Sing Jewel, and More
4. Channel only the flashiest, most badass performers.
So you just got dumped, fired, or otherwise wronged, and you want everyone to know how miserable you are. I have one word for you: No. Go home. Unless, of course, you're willing to chug three beers, which is the bare minimum for karaoke success, and shake it the fuck off.
But if you really must sing a sad song, it's best to do it in the style of a total badass. For example, try singing "Stay" by Lisa Loeb as Aretha Franklin, who can turn being royally wronged into something sassy and soulful. Or if you really must touch an Elliott Smith song (I love him as much as the next sad sack, but karaoke is neither the time or the place), channel a bit of Axl Rose, perhaps.
Also, keep in mind that when more than three people sing together, the performance generally becomes an awkward, self-conscious muddle. At that point, we feel like we're watching the birth of a high school pecking order. And no, we do not want to drink to that.
5. Know when to pack it in.
So earlier I mentioned Ms. Pit Stain, your rockin' backup dancer from that time you sang "The Sign" by Ace of Base. It's true that she might be intermittently awesome, but Ms. Stain has one problem: She didn't know when to call it quits.
That's not to imply that karaoke is an activity better suited to the young, because I'm pretty sure you rock harder the older you get. It simply means that night after night, Ms. Stain stuck around for one more song, and subsequently one more drink, and eventually she was feeding some deep-seated need for karaoke-based approval, and she came to resemble something that belongs in the seedy déjà-vu of a nightclub from a David Lynch movie.
So after your third song of the night, when you're veering toward blackout drunk and your neurons are firing through Jell-o, just consider catching a cab home. That's all I'm saying. Because I think we can all agree that all things Lynchian should remain on Mullholland motherfucking Drive. They should never follow you home.
Previous Advice From Angela Lutz:
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