Karen and karaoke.

The place I live is called Crashpad 35. Once in a while it's called "Crack" pad 35 when we get crazy off of salt and potatoes (french fries) and have dance parties at midnight until someone falls off the counter and face plants into the carpet. But usually it's just Crashpad 35.

Crashpad 35 is known for many things. Sometimes it's a French café when we decide to make crepes on a weeknight. Sometimes it's a gym when the window is open and you hear Mumford & Sons blasting and girls screaming "Karen, no! My arms!" (Karen is the name we coined for our robotic personal trainer on the Nike Fitness app. We don't like her because she makes us do hard things.) Sometimes it's a psychiatric office when we have long deep chats about life late into the night. Sometimes it's a home for our very large FHE family.

This weekend, it was a karaoke bar (if you use the term "bar" very loosely) on Saturday night as we held the first of many Karaoke Saturdays to come. Food was consumed, reputations were upheld (or ruined), and embarrassing photographs were taken. Enjoy. And keep your eyes peeled and ears open for the next Karaoke Saturday at Crashpad 35, cause it'll be epic.