Talent Show-Off

So, a few years ago I was working as a bank teller (you know, because I have an English degree...) along with another girl my age named Danielle. Danielle was tiny and looked like an anime character and had this great raspy, little-kid voice and crazy, juvenile sense of humor. Upon my hiring, we immediately became best friends.

"Friends" may actually be too mild a word to describe our relationship. More like "co-conspirators." At one point, we weren't even allowed to work at windows next to each other. They actually separated us, like misbehaving kindergarteners. It was awesome.

Danielle and I became friends outside of work as well. Though I am normally terrified of going out with new people, especially by myself, I bravely accepted her invitation to hang out with her and her friends one weekend at Da Funky Phish, a well-known hole-in-the-wall place right near where I lived. In fact, the only reason I agreed to this proposal may have been because I had been to this place before, so I wouldn't be on totally unfamiliar ground. "There's this band playing that I've seen there before and the lead singer is HOT!"

A girl after my own heart.

Though I spent most of the evening perched on a bar stool in the corner as everyone else played pool, it wasn't a total loss: the lead singer was hot. Also, I was introduced to Danielle's boyfriend, Andy. Andy was in a band, too. And oh my...

Stop it stop it stop it — he is TAKEN. And she is your FRIEND. And you don't have many of them to pick and choose from. You will stop this RIGHT NOW!

Oh, but he was pretty...

So hanging out with Danielle became more comfortable for me, as long as she brought along her eye c-Andy. HAHAHA!!! GET IT?!?

...sorry.

Eventually, we started inviting the other girls from the bank to come out with us, and soon it became a regular thing: every Friday night after we closed, we'd hit up the little Irish pub down the block for Karaoke Night. (This did not always bode well for those working the Saturday morning shift the next day.)

Now, you may remember from way back that I am a slave to karaoke. I can't get enough of myself. It's embarassing, really, what an attention-whore I am. But whatever, that's not gonna stop me.

So on one of these girls' nights out, we let some of the boys tag along. Of course, Danielle brought Andy, who also brought some of his friends, all of whom immediately headed for the pool table in the back room. We girls, meanwhile, zeroed straight in on the song books.

I was usually the only one in the place who sang before she got drunk, so while the bank girls were at the bar, I sauntered up to the microphone for my rendition of the Fugees' rendition of "Killing Me Softly."

As I got going onstage, Danielle made her way to the pool table with Andy's drink. Now, according to Danielle's version of events, relayed to me later in the evening, he then says to her, "They should really turn down that background music. You can't hear Becky singing."

Danielle replies, "That is Becky singing."

Andy looks up from the pool table, drops his cue, rushes up to the stage to verify this claim, turns to his girlfriend and says:

"Damn. I want to fuck her now."

Ladies and gentlemen, to this day, I still consider that statement one of the highest compliments I have ever been paid.

Thank you, Cleveland!