Even drunk, we would never ever belt out a rendition of Tom Jones' "Delilah" in public. (What we do in the privacy of our own shower is none of your business.) But it's nice to know that if we wanted to (and to be honest, we sorta do), we could thrill--or induce vomiting among--the lovely birds in an audience. All we would need is a stop at this Valley View mall shop, which sells and rents karaoke machines, mixing boards and microphones, along with the largest selection of karaoke-ready songs in Texas--somewhere between 70,000 and 100,000 titles. They even provide DJs and setups for parties, wedding receptions and, we suppose, really rockin' wakes. If you think that karaoke died sometime about the era of the first Bush administration, check out the store's Web site at www.spotlightonkaraoke.com to see the huge variety of equipment available. Someone, somewhere is into this, so there may yet be hope for our lounge-act dreams.
Rumor has it our couch came from the set of Good Morning, Texas, and, yeah, it took awhile to get those Sams stains out; someone really should Scotchguard that dude. But, nonetheless, it was one hell of a bargain--something like $300, when it would have cost us $1,000, more or less (more, likely). And we picked it, and the rest of our house's furnishings, up at the Gabberts outlet on Furniture Row near LBJ Freeway and Midway Road. This place is a mecca for high-quality merch at low, low prices--leather couches at pennies on the dollar (OK, quarters on the dollar, but whatever), recliners so cheap you can rest a little easier, armoires you can afford without knocking over an armored car. Some of this stuff deserves to be dirt cheap--some looks as though it came from the Bradys' house in 1971--but even then, better retro "kitsch" than au courant broke, we say. Nice selection of rugs, too, as well as other stuff with which to stuff your house. Or apartment. Or trailer home. Or underpass.
We're scared of many things, such as mosquitoes (West Nile!), snakes (poison!) and monkeys (the Marburg monkey virus, which for some reason we fear more than its well-known sister virus, Ebola!). We're also queasy about the sun and its link to skin cancer, which is why we are pasty and have no luck with the ladies. That's why we plan to visit Planet Tan and do what our good friend did: get misted. For the person who needs to be caramelized, Planet Tan can apply the UV-free Mist-On Tan product. It gives you a sweet golden-brown tone for up to a week, which is all the time we need to find a soul mate. The procedure is complete in less time than it takes to disrobe, so if you've got a big event coming up, or if you just need to even out your own tan, stop by a day or two before you need to wear that revealing outfit and do what we light-fearing folk do: Buy yourself some good looks.
You won't find batteries, phone cards and store-brand toothbrushes lining the counters of Restoration Hardware. The stuff you will find isn't that necessary, but it is cuter and much more expensive. Around the cash registers are tubs and hangers full of gadgets, widgets and other unneeded items you'll decide to take home while waiting to check out, such as magnets made from milk jar lids and old dice and key-chain magnifying glasses and compasses.
The grocer carries all sorts of imported fresh and canned goods suited to the discerning cook of all sorts of Middle Eastern fare. That's right, all sorta good stuff for all sorta people. Which, admit it, is shocking. Not only is the bread the freshest, softest, tastiest Middle Eastern breadlike stuff you're likely to find (chain grocery store pita pocket bread need not apply), but the loaves are full size, just like they are in Lebanon. The store sells ingredients for old standards like hummus and rare spices suited to more exotic Middle Eastern dishes, Middle Eastern candy, chewing gum and even really good pickles imported from Lebanon. We would take the time to learn the names of these items, but we're too busy scarfing.