That’s Bro Montana, who may or may not be belting Danzig’s “Mother”. Faceless due to privacy concerns.

Storytime: ’Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving…

…and we all got folksy, with a night on the town singing karaoke…


The Wednesday before Thanksgiving has become recognized as one of America’s bigger party nights of the year. It’s a unique brand of debauchery, satirized brilliantly by this article that The Onion runs every year:

I didn’t make it to my high school town this year, instead opting for what I thought would be a relatively low-key affair in San Francisco. Nightlife in San Francisco can be a bit unpredictable on the WBT (that’s a hip new abbreviation I made up for Wednesday Before Thanksgiving). You could find yourself in an empty room, what with SF being a city of transplants who go elsewhere for the holiday. Then again, it’s not a school night, so chances are things will be more crowded than your average Wednesday. Your night can be a bit like a box of chocolates in that way.

Anyway, mine started at my brother’s place, where he and his fam were finishing up dinner with my dad, who had been on nanny duty that day. Broseph and I planned on going to karaoke, because we hadn’t had a night out together in a while.

Dad was a last-minute addition to the crew, with a prime parking spot outside the bar serving as the final bit of encouragement. Just your standard, run-of-the-mill, Thanksgiving family karaoke night. Although Dad didn’t even sing. What a sissy. He did depart with a list of songs he vowed to go practice, though. Okay, Dad. Looking forward to next time.

I find it impossible not to have a good time at karaoke. It’s the closest any of us will get to being an actual rock star. Plus, it’s enjoyable to judge others (and I’m talking harshly) on their shitty performances.

One of those performances was “A Whole New World” by a couple of 20-something girls sitting near us, although that was the least of the entertainment they provided. They were there with one male, and it’s always a fun challenge to try to figure out the relational dynamics of a group like that. Are they all just friends? Is he dating one of them? Is he trying to cross off “have a threesome” from his bucket list? We’d get our answer soon enough.

Right around 10 pm or so, one of the girls completely fell off a cliff. Like, a switched flipped and suddenly she couldn’t hold her head up. So much so that I’m almost surprised that we, the group they were conversing with, didn’t get accused of roofienious activity. Family Thanksgiving karaoke nights are known for that sort of thing, after all.

So that was the first interesting thing that happened.

The second interesting thing that happened was my bro and I making a duet out of Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” with a bit of “Style” mashed up in there (inspired by this). So fire.

The third interesting thing happened after I (American hero that I am) helped these two walk their nearly-passed-out friend out of the bar. (This was around 10 pm, mind you). Now, it seemed like the guy had a thing going on with the drunker of the two girls, at least before she went over the edge. So I was surprised to see the remaining two come back into the bar after they put her in a car, i.e. made her someone else’s problem. And not a few minutes after their return they were totally sucking face. Like, passionately. They definitely weren’t a couple, though. Couples don’t do that in the middle of a bar. Perhaps they planned the roofiecoloda conspiracy, clearing the way for their first kiss.


The song of the night was probably Boys II Men’s “End of The Road”, performed by a super-group of star male singers from throughout the night (the baritone really tied it all together). Egghead of the Evening Award goes to the moron who (tried to) sing “Shout”. Never have I seen such an easy crowd pleaser go so awry.

Dad had left around 10, and brother was looking to get home around midnight, so I thought my evening was coming to a close fairly early, as planned. But another karaoke-loving friend (we’ll call him Brian) hit me up, so that made for a clean swap of my hang partner. I was only riding solo for about 10 minutes, but in that time I managed to strike up a conversation with a girl who lives in LA, back home in SF for the holiday. Conveniently, she was out with a friend, so it was, as they say, “on”.

I can’t say I was all that interested in the girl, but still fun to make a night out of wing-manning. The scale almost tipped towards interested after these two girls sang Adele’s “Hello” and pretty much nailed it. Talent is sexy, after all.

We did manage to get a four-person after party going back at Brian’s place, where we debated Justin Bieber’s best work (“As Long as You Love Me” is the correct answer, btw, but his new stuff is competitive). The younger of the two ladies explained how his rumored recoupling with Selena Gomez is sort of a big deal in her life. It was kind of adorable.

Lack of energy and tricky logistics ultimately made the AP unsuccessful, although Brian did get some digits. Which was an accomplishment, considering the final twist of the night: Brian had thought all along that I knew these girls previously, rather than have just met them. So his approach might have been entirely different had we ever gotten on the same page. Then again, maybe he exerted a certain confidence from “knowing” that he was a friend of a friend. Oh well. Get ’em next time, bud.

Happy Thanksgiving!


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