Motown, baby!

Man, I'm leaving this city in two weeks just when I've been introduced to a great place to go.

Karaoke was memorable, as per usual. The Backstreet Bar and Grill is a dumpy place with permanent Christmas decorations and lots of strange Hamilton inhabitants. Most people who frequent the place are either missing teeth, wearing shirts with embroidered scenery, or are drunk and passed out on the bar at four o'clock in the afternoon. Some of them can sing. Not Tammy, though. She stunk. Especially in her Eminem duet with her pony-tailed boyfriend. It's an intimate atmosphere, and it's fun to be oogled at by balding, inebriated men. Okay, only when you're desperate...

A word to the wise: Don't sing Eleanor Rigby unless you have a low voice. Otherwise you sound like crap (not carp) and everyone will point and laugh. Another word to the wise: These Boots were Made for Walkin' is a sure-fire crowd pleaser. Final word to the wise: Three pitchers turns three friends into cackling fools who offer each other love advice and touch each other in compromising areas for kicks.

We then stumbled over to this bar called Absinthe which is famous for its Wednesday night Motown party. It was awesome! Everyone was dressed up in crazy outfits and were hitting the dance floor to all the old Motown classics. Did you know that Motown is not a style of music but the name of a recording studio. I learned that in pop music class. What a great class. Seriously though, that's when I can have fun at a club; when people are there to dance and have a great time regardless of whether they get laid that night. We were dancing to dance, not to sell.

It was good to hang out with Ken again and it turns out he'll be moving to Toronto so I guess this isn't good-bye (or I love you) after all.