Raymi
November 9, 2002
Roll over Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news— Raymi's in town and ready to kick some karaoke ass! She arrived on Thursday and had me running around until the crack of dawn. I crashed about 6 AM, only to get an important phone call from Italy three hours later. Needless to say, I was in no state to concentrate and nearly lost this Italy gig only a day after finally getting it. The Italian lady on the other end of the phone was beginning to question why the hell I was involved in this project at all—and to be honest, at that point, so was I.
After the call, I crawled back to bed only to get a phone call from work an hour later telling me I needed to come in. I did what I had to do and then went home. I could barely stay awake, and it seemed like only a few minutes later in my distorted sense of time before Raymi was dragging my ass to Karaoke. But I have to say that after all her talk of what a Karaoke star she is, she did not disappoint.
Song after song, she had all the tables next to us wrapped around her finger. Although there was a bit of a feud going on with a table of Japanese pretenders who had been commanding the room before we arrived. But there was no contest, and like the pinball wizard handing over his pinball crown, the other players finally admitted defeat and bowed out. And when I say bowed out, I mean literally—as I said, they were Japanese.
Karaoke closed at 3:30 AM, and we left to find somewhere else to go, which in the city that supposedly never sleeps proved a lot harder than it should've been. But Raymi sniffed out a place, and we got in just under the bell. I left her and her cohorts at about 5 AM and finally slept. But, what’s this? Awake again at 9 AM? Sitting through another round of potential buyers combing through my apartment.
11/10/2002 SoHo Grand Hotel. Lots of yuppies and drinks with silly names.
November 11, 2002
Guess what kids? More Karaoke! It's not easy to get a crowd of jaded New York hipsters to let loose, but a delicate blend of Raymi's special breed of Canadian charm and a healthy dose of alcohol will cause that cool facade to melt off their faces like an ice cube in the rain.
After a blistering set of balls-to-the-wall rockers, Raymi brought it back down with a romantic duet that caused random make-out sessions to erupt throughout the crowd. I think I might have overheard a couple say something about naming their firstborn child "Raymi.”
November 12, 2002
Raymi is leaving tomorrow. I guess that means all the countless blog hits I've gotten over the last few days will suddenly disappear. That’s okay, I’m a humble guy with no ambition to rule the world the way Raymi has. I'll be more than happy to fade back into the peaceful oblivion I occupied before she visited.
I'll spend the next few days trying to get my life back in order and catching up on everything I let slide while she was here. And I suppose I'll spend a few solid days searching my apartment, trying to take stock of everything she stole.
Yesterday, we had fun taking some photos—well, actually, that's what we've been doing since she arrived. Photos of Raymi singing, photos of Raymi drinking, photos of Raymi breakdancing, photos of Raymi eating rice, etc. But what I mean is that yesterday I pulled out the big guns and took some photos with my Hasselblad. If they turn out and if they pass her strict approval process, I’ll post them somewhere.
