For a person who’s as social as I am, I can function quite nicely as a lone wolf. It ain’t uncommon for me to go out midnight marauding by my damn self, whether it’s because I just need some time alone with the man, the myth, the legend (that’s me, for those of you keeping score at home) or everybody else was just lame as hell and couldn’t motivate. The kid will make something happen if that is what he so desires, and it was on just such an occasion that I met one of the most interesting characters that I’ve come across in New York.
I was fresh from downing my second or third Five Points (think Long Island Iced Tea but for people with class) at 67 Orange Street in Harlem, walking down Frederick Douglass Blvd. By the way, I mean literally walking down the middle of the street – Five Points is no jizzoke – when my gaze ran across this slim, caramel woman with a whole lotta gams and, to literally top it off, close-cropped blonde hair. She was working at the beer garden across the street. (Yes, there’s a beer garden in Harlem.) Before my internal cop could say, “Move along. There’s nothing to see here,” I saw her see me. Then she did the unfathomable: she yelled out, “Come on in!” Apparently, my internal perp was still a bit skittish, ’cause I yelled back, “Who, me?” as if I were getting
fingered blamed for some crime that I had yet to commit. “Yeah, you!” Was the retort, complete with hands-on-hips action. My ass was across that pavement before you could say, “Lederhosen und hefeweizen.”
We became fast friends. I say “fast” because within 10 minutes Shahi was asking me to accompany her on a boat party the next day. Oh, and I say “friends” because within 11 minutes Shahi had disclosed that she was married to a man who was back in Toronto. But she needed somebody to go on this cruise with her! And it was going to be so much fun ’cause it was a soca themed cruise! Yay!
Have I mentioned, dear reader, that I get seasick like it’s my government job and that I HATE soca almost as much as I HATE reggaeton? How about the fact that I can swim about as well as the sperm of a 75 year-old former cyclist? No? Well, yeah. All of that.
So, did I go?
You’re gonna have to tune in next week to find out. In the meantime, I’ve included a little something to get you fiends over the hump and soothe the savage beast.
It turns out that one thing that Little
Miss Mrs. Shahi didn’t disclose within the first 11 minutes of our meeting was that she can muphuckin’ sing. I mean, I look up on Twitter one day and all of sudden I see that she’s mentioned me in a tweet with a link and lo and behold, babygirl has auditioned for “Canada’s Got Talent,” singing “Fly Me to the Moon.” (Watch the audition here.) As soon as I heard it, I knew that I was gonna have to get in there (Ahem. AHEM!) and snatch those a cappella vocals, then put ’em on track that I’d build from the ground up. I wanted to flip it so that it would put a totally new spin on a pop standard…and show Shahi that she wasn’t the only one that can do damn surprises around this joint.
I did this totally without her input or knowledge initially, ripping her vocals directly off of YouTube, so blame any shortfalls on me. But if you like it…give me like 75% of the credit. OK, OK. 60%. Check it!
3 responses to “Beauty and the Beast: Part I”
I like. Tell her your Big Sis approves!
No doubt. And you’re my little sister, dude.
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