Here's the irony: you're gonna walk away intact.

I finally lost the battle. At least twice in the past month I've felt a sickness coming on and I fought it off, usually with sleep and herbal remedies and vitamins. Yesterday it started to happen again and there was no hope, so I said fck it and didn't change my evening plans one bit. Well, I did originally think I might get plastered, but instead I just had a few drinks -- enough whiskey to fight off my symptoms. And rolled home at 2 am after closing the place down.

The karaoke night started off slow. Literally, as there was a birthday celebration with lots of corporate types who made the wait between songs close to an hour. Half our crew didn't survive past the first round when I sang The Killers' "Somebody Told Me", but those who stayed behind were justly rewarded. And by "justly rewarded" I mean hearing renditions of both Rock Ya Body's (Liza did Justin Timberlake, I did Stagga Lee), a foiled attempt at Mariah Carey's "It's Like That" (the CD had a scratch), a killer version of Evanescence "Bring Me To Life", my rock star moment of Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend" (which I hadn't heard in years but still knew note for note), and the piece de resistance: a duet of Paula Abdul's Vibeology. Horny horns, mtherfcker.

God, I love karaoke.

Today I'm hanging out in my pajamas and reading and being sick and I was going to write more, maybe about teaching, or going back and telling the story about reading tarot cards for a bachelorette party last weekend, or maybe thoughts on my crush/dating/whatever it is, but dommeyourass came home which means watching more Lost.