The Breakroom could be considered the home bar for the dregs from your local DMV or nearby Walmart. Not real pretty, a little scary for the weak, rough around the edges, but real nevertheless. I met up with Max and his bevy of beauties for Thursday night karaoke - bulletproof vest optional.
Yes, the bar is dumpy with caved in ceilings, classroom lighting, broken ceiling fans and probably hasn't changed since 1982, but the Bacardi cokes were $2. Two. Dollars. WTF?! The song list here was extensive - one of the larger lists akin to George and Dragon. The crowd was all over the place as others mentioned and got noticeably younger as the night went on.
The emcee was friendly and cool and roamed the room with his wireless mike while he noshed on a make-me-vomit value meal from McDonalds. He was a decent emcee until he decided to sing Freedom 90 with me and totally screw it up with his deep gravelly voice - nearly drowning my seasoned, tried and true rendition.
I probably won't go back for karaoke unless Max (bevy of beauties in tow) and/or my Mafioso cousins from the Bay Area are with me.