my friend Wolf just asked me if i had a first line for my new short story (that’s due in TEN DAYS). i told him that i cannot talk about it unless he has a brilliant idea for the story.

then he suggested that perhaps i just cheat and re-working something old — as if the idea hadn’t already crossed my mind. but then i can’t because we made a vow. and even worse than the vow, we’ve also decided on a punishment for all cheaters. those who wimp out and do not submit something that never before existed for their second story have to buy the first round of drinks at Grumpys and and and (this is the bad part) sing karaoke.

yeah.

and while i am like A#1 car singer and even singer when i am sitting in a chair, the thought of getting up in front of people and singing makes me want to throw right up.

Kelly and the vodo were trying to get me to sing regardless of my state of drunkeness or cheating and i said no.

“why?” the vodo asked.
“because i’m shy,” i said.
he rolled his eyes. “you are not shy.”
“i am so shy,” i whined. “i am!”
“fuck you,” he said, imitating me. “i am shy.”
“hrmph!” i said. “I AM!”
“you can’t convince people that you’re shy.”

then i elbowed him in the nose. because that’s what shy people do when they are confronted in public about their shyness.

after my second Guinness. i think i acquiesced. claiming if kelly drove and i drank enough i would do “Dead Flowers.”

“you can totally do ‘Dead Flowers,'” the vodo said. “there’s hardly any singing.”
“i know,” i said. “i can totally talk.”
“Well when you’re sitting there in your silk upholstered chair,” he started, and my eyes got all misty and a little dreamy. parts of me grew sticky. “talking to some rich folk that you know. . .”

and i didn’t let him finish. because i tossed him down on the bar and fucked him right there. everyone was appalled. but you know a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.