Saturday, July 05, 2008

Europe - Day Nine



Rhodes (our first full day at the beach), Baked Alaskan ice cream adventures, and the night of the infamous Karaoke


Rhodes - Flowering tree and mom
Starfish
Platform jumping!


We had a blast swimming out to it and jumping off.


Rainbow speedo Enjoying the swim.
Anna, Em, and I paddling our little hearts out.


"Lookin' out the window, you better believe that's a paddlin'."
Sweet apartment
Best picture of the Baked Alaskan ice cream

Blurry, but I love how excited Eileen is.

video

While we enjoyed our ice cream, the dear staff entertained us with songs.

video

Denise Allen (Andrea's mom) always had the sweetest moves and always knew the perfect moment to bust them out.

Karaoke Details:

All of our pictures were way too blurry, but someone, somewhere has this on video. Talk to Andrea Allen.

Later that night, we wandered upstairs, and delightedly realized that there was karaoke going on. Unfortunately, we soon couldn't turn our frowns upside down as we suffered through lame annoying song after lame annoying song (Example: Can You Feel the Love Tonight?), and nobody was dancing or making it enjoyable or anything. I was getting stir-crazy so I told Em that I'd had enough. We were going to spice up the joint.

We signed up to sing ABC by the Jackson 5, I pulled out two headbands, and we nervously waited for our number. We had about a minute and a half of scheming and brainstorming. My heart was beeping when they called our song, and we immediately bolted for the stage, accepted the two mics, and (probably against the rules) jumped up on the stage where the screen was.

We had our backs to the crowd, we snapped our headbands on hippie style, sassily flipped around in unison, and pose-jumped off the stage. I spread my legs, Em slid underneath (sort of, the floor wasn't very slide-condusive, she ended up getting a burn on her hand), and in the mic I planned to jazz up the crowd with, "Em and Amy here. We're ready to rock your world," but got lost in all of the excitement and forgot.

Our group went wild, and we busted out crazy move after crazy move. The singing was absolutely horrible, turns out we only knew the chorus, but our energy made up for the gap. I'm squeezing my lip trying to think how I can describe the moves that we put on our audience. We were all over the place. At one point the words kept saying, "Shake it!" and being sisters, we knew exactly what to do. Again, in Christmas-miracle unison, we turned our backs to the crowd, jumped up and clapped, then pointed with both hands to our butts as we did a masterful booty shake.

We were all over the place, and I tried to end on a breakdance spin, but had so quickly forgotten about the lack of movement that the floor provided. Basically, all the glory in that move was that my shoe went flying off. The song, ended, we got a score of 31 out of 100 (given by the computer based on your singing), and enjoyed the pats on the back from strangers and friends and family alike. We couldn't gauge whether it was accepted as ridiculous or ridiculously cool. Anna kept breaking her sentence with fits of laughter, "I have no right to ever be unhappy again," and Andrea couldn't stop re-playing our sweetness on her camera, "I had no idea that that was coming." It was absolutely invigorating.



3 comments:

Kimberly said...

Emily has a video of that caper??! I can't wait! It might be the thing that I have been holding my breath for! It could have possibly tipped the blog scale in her favor, but since you have beat her to the punch, you get double points for the descriptive account

Amy Bateman said...

Wahoo!
You know that Em and I are in constant blog battle. I'll go tell her the great news that I have pulled ahead ... again.

Kimberly said...

I think at the end of the summer, there will have to be some kind of Blog award . . . I can't compete, because I'll be the one presenting the award ... also, because, well, I can't compete! I'm a terrible blogger! BUt I sure do love reading them.
Also, once your a mom, all you blog about is the kiddies . . .