Tea and figs

Friday night, we piled into a sports bar at St. Clair & Dufferin for karaoke and to celebrate Sarah L.'s birthday. Despite my insistance that private-room karaoke reigns supreme, this was a damn good time, and for most of the night, it was only us (and one random karaoke idol) at the mics. Above, Douglas, Josh & Jer as the Soggy Bottom Boys. Douglas's take on the Darkness takes my personal prize for Most Brilliant Moment, though Roopa gets the title of Karaoke Queen for her George Michael impersonation.

After, Josh, Steph, Jer & I cabbed to the Dance Cave. Talked to pyjama man, who gave us stickers and took his picture with us (it was his birthday). Haven't been there in a year, but, fans will be happy to know that the music has not changed. At all. It's sort of comforting.

For those who have never been dance cavers, pyjama man is a mystery. It's almost as though Dance Cave is a vocation for him -- I don't think I have ever been there, in the past five years, and not seen him, either on Friday or Saturday. In pyjamas. (I think he must change there, since I've never seen him on the streets in his flannels.) I don't know who he is, and probably wouldn't recognize him if I met him, sans-pjs. Why does he do it? How did it start? Isn't he hot, dancing to Franz Ferdinand in flannel?

Labels: friends, music