The other night, a few of us celebrated our friend Casey's birthday, with drunken Karaoke and general merriment. I was taking it easy, sticking to my classic and detoxifying vodka cranberry. I decude to go up to the birthday boy and ask him what he would like to drink. The idea of taking shots intrigue us and when the bartender asks what shot we would like Casey relates, that us being the good Irish boys that we are, we should do an Irish Car Bomb.

Now ... I am not a drinker. The taste is typically unbearable, the bloated feeling in my stomach is unfortunate, and the hangover the next day is devastating. So when the birthday boy suggested Irish Car Bombs I was like "sure, why not, how bad could it be, isn't that the shot with beer and a little bit of Bailey's". The bartender looked at me with a mix of confusion and amusement as she laughed at naivety and then proceeded to pull out the largest shot glasses I have ever seen and fills them to the top with Jameson. Ugh .... Jameson ... one of my mortal enemies, only surpassed by its partner in crime Tequila. After she had finished pouring shots, she pulls out three tall beer glasses and proceeds to fill them to the brim with Guinness. The only time I drink beer is when I am engaging in some sort of organized drinking game or watching a Wisconsin Badgers football game. Then I get told we are dropping the shots into the beer glass and chugging the whole thing.

WHAT!?!?!?! Who ever thought that that was a good idea? Suddenly a shot celebrating our Irish heritage turned into an epic journey toward personal triumph. And I'm sorry, one cannot chug Guiness - I feel as though I am drinking liquid potatoes. I did it though, I am very proud of myself, I somehow managed to down the entire glass ... and keep it down to boot.

That being said .... that was my first and now last Irish Car Bomb. Aside from the cultural insensitivity of ordering such a shot, I woke up the next morning not quite sure what happened or why my body hurt so much. So, with that said, never again. Well I say that now - give it a few months and I will probably forget what it is and doom myself to repeat my terrible mistake.   

I had totally forgotten that yesterday was Mardi Gras and completely forgot that today is Ash Wednesday. When friends had called me over the weekend to make plans for Mardi Gras, I assumed that they were referring to a Tuesday in the distant future - not last night. Then I embarrassingly learned that I was confusing Mardi Gras with St. Patrick's Day. Meh, I'm sure I am not the first person to do this - green beer, green beads it's kind the same isn't it?

Embarrassing moment of the day - I had gone to get some food because I didn't feel like making anything that I had in my house. When I gave my order, the cashier looked at me, and exclaimed  "celebrating Fat Tuesday huh?". Umm exccccuuuuussseee me; First, is it really Fat Tuesday and secondly what are you trying to say, that because I am ordering copious amounts of food that I must be observing the holiday of over-indulgence known as Fat Tuesday? For your information I order food like this ever day of my life so thank you very much.

Anyway, a few friends and I decided to celebrate this annual festivity by heading out to The Patio Bar to engage in some well deserved over-indulgence. I drank way too much, sang way too much, danced too raunchily, and ultimately ended the night on a Fat Girl Note by ripping the McDonalds' drive through at 1:30 in the morning - what we were hungry from our excessive over-indulging.

Mardi Gras is supposedly a celebration to experience all of the vices and sins that we must give up during Lent - a chance to give something up in our and learn the lesson of sacrifice or some crap like that. Most of the time as a child I tried to work the "giving up church" angle with my parents with no success. Shortly after reaching my teen years, I stopped observing this traditional religious holiday. I remember stressing to find something good and worthwhile to give up - most of the time I said something like cake or candy (both things I didn't like very much) Looking back now I really didn't understand the concept of Lent. However, I am going to take a page from many fanaticalm conversative, born-again friends and pcik and choose the elements of the Bible that I wish to follow. That being said I will tak part in the day long celebration of my obvious hedonistic tendencies and just ignore that whole Ash Wednesday/Lent/Palm Sunday/Good Friday/Easter part of the story. :)

Karaoke exists in a world of its own.  The thrill of flipping through massive song books to determine which love ballad or breakaway pop hit you are going to dazzle the audience with next. The anticipation of waiting to see if your song is called next and the utter disappointment when you realize that the person next to you was called up to sing their rendition of a Dolly Parton hit.

Gay Karaoke – as it is with most things gay – is a subculture within that world; one that has its own language and decorum.  Here are some of the things that one will find if you attend gay karaoke. 

Without fail, at some portion of the night, a gaggle of lesbians will invariably go up and perform the same cycle of three songs; “Am I the Only One” by Melissa Etheridge, “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette, and  “Piece of my Heart” by Janis Joplin. Basically anything that has an angry hard rock edge best performed with a raspy smoker’s voice.

Similarly, a flock of gays will also seek to dominate the Karaoke playlist by putting in their own set of requests. These often include a wide assortment of classic iconic divas – Cher, Bette, Whitney -, a medley of Lady Gaga songs for good measure, and a sprinkling of campy, light-hearted Broadway musicals. In other words, we effortlessly fulfill the cultural stereotypes of our people. Also, with the popular success of the show GLEE, queens (including myself) are taking center stage as if they were Lea Michele – unfortunately most of us are not.

In my personal opinion, the best place for Gay Karaoke in Reno is the Patio Bar located on 5^thstreet across from Beto’s. The warm and inviting atmosphere is the perfect place for you and your group of friends – regardless of your sexual orientation. On top of that, Riley – one of the best Karaoke DJs in town – blows patrons away with her cool, seductive Spanish songs or beautiful love ballads. Perhaps when I go back to get my Masters I will major in queer studies and focus on the underground world of Gay Karaoke and get paid to traverse to Gay Karaoke establishments throughout the country – I wouldn’t hate it ;)