The last two Fridays, I've gone down to the Happy Puppy karaoke palace after school with some of the teachers and fellow students. Happy Puppy is sort of a karaoke house-of-ill-repute: you rent private rooms by the hour to indulge your basest singing desires. In our case these range from Barry Manilow to Bon Jovi. There's a big screen that shows sometimes-mangled versions of the lyrics superimposed on random videos of New Zealand beaches, women romping in fields of flowers, people jumping on trampolines, and so forth.
It's fun because, unlike a typical karaoke bar, everybody sings together. That makes it a more communal experience, plus you don't have to worry about whether you actually have a good voice or not. Singing by myself in front of a crowd is too much like my third-grade music class, where the teacher would force you to solo in front of everybody and then mock you if you were off key. (Why did anyone ever let that guy teach music, anyway?!)
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