Good Lord.

I was out of control this weekend. Specifically, on Saturday night.

JammyJam came in on Saturday, she brought me a present - a harmonica! I started practicing right away, because I love it so much. My friend Andrew came over and we headed downtown to the East Village. Lunched at Belgo and headed down Astor for some street shopping - the best kind.

Tried on a few pink leather dog collers, but decided to wait until I have disposable income to splurge. Picked up some necessities - a John Schneider iron-on t-shirt, and some sparkelers, a pack of serial killer trading cards (contraband), new sunglasses, silver hoops, and a $20 Kate Spade knock-off. Is there any sort of pattern to my life?

Took JammyJam to the Big K. Bought more wifebeaters to bedazzle and decided to get our portraits taken for Christmas - we are going to give them to the whole family - framed - with wallet size. We will also be dressing alike, like our mom's used to do to us as kids, for this photo. This is something I've been dying to do for 2 years, I mean how funny would it be to give everyone a K-mart portrait??? Cracks me up.

Headed home to bedazzle. I made a shirt for my friend Sushibitch (.com), whose birthday we were planning on celebrating that night. Jammyjam made me a new shirt that says FREAK and made herself a shirt that says JR.HIGH. LOVE IT!

Ingested beers and stuff and rolled downtown to D.B.A.'s. Got out at First St. and First Ave. so JammyJam could experience the nexus of the universe, per her fav. Seinfeld episode.

Sushibitch loved her shirt and put it on right away. Some of the boys came and met us. Erin and her girls showed up. Jen arrived. Suddenly, my group took over the bar. Luckily, sushibitch didn't mind - as she had her own groups to attend to.

I was caught between conversations, with JammyJam not feeling so good due to vitamin E gone wrong. I, not feeling good enough, took an extra vitamin. Perhaps that's what overdid it?

I was conned into telling the canoe-trip story, quickly becoming my signature, and shortly there after, we decided to head over to Lucky Cheng's, the touristy tranny bar (that's tranvestites for those you not in the know)for the karoake scene.

B&T (bridge and tunnel, ie - non-Manhattanites who come in for the night and invade the city) could describe the scene at LC. Here's the deal. It's a back room with tables. There's a small stage that's in the shape of a runway. On either side of the runway are pools with live fish in them - chain ropes keep you from falling in. The crowd stands around this stage, leaning on the walls of the fish pool. And they heckle. The boo you, yell obscenities, whatever.

Jen is the first to get up. Her surprise song was "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" - the Madonna version. And let me tell you - she owned that stage. She had moves like you don't even know. My favorite part was when the loser guy at the foot of the stage - who clearly hasn't gotten laid in years - started booing her and in the middle of her song, she turned to him and yells in the mic "FUCK YOU!" and then continues singing like nothing happened. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, however, due to overdoing the Vitamin E, I had lost control of my nerves and my thighes were shaking uncontrollably. Sometimes these things happen. At the same time, I was seeing everything in vertical scrolling stripes, you know like when the image on your TV scrolls uncontrollably? Anyway, at the end of her set, she turned to the heckler and yells, "Fuck you, why don't you go back to Jersey where you came from!" The guy yells back, "The last train to Long Island leaves at 2AM" and she retorts, "Well, you better be on it!"

Readers, it got ugly at the karoake bar. But I got up there nevertheless. When I felt that my eyes were no longer rolling back in my head and that I could possibly stand without assistance, I joined my roommate and Jen for No Scrubs. It was a crowd pleaser.

So I convinced my roommate to go with me for my favorite song, "Bobby McGee." My intro. was, "I'd like everyone to raise a shot of SoCo in memory of my girl, Janis." I heard a cackle out of the tranny for that.

And we begin. I'd like to add here, that while I think I sound EXACTLY like Janis Joplin, I don't. But I have heart, and whenever possible I use props. It's a good show.

So we get to the "la-di-da" part of the song, and the I reach into my bra, in front of crowd, and whip out my harmonica, which I tucked in there earlier.

And I started playing. Like I was John Popper. I mean full - on, mic up to harmonica, leaning forward and then leaning back, blowing into this thing like I was giving CPR to the Pope. Lot of heart, people.

Now apparently, the tranny DJ had thought the harmonica was part of the track, and then she looked up and saw it was me, and she BOWED to me. Bowed. Onstage. JammyJam thinks that I may have been the first to whip out my own musical props, at the Karoake Bar. I hope so.

Needless to say I brought the house down, which in all fairness, was mostly my friends at this point.

The bar closed at 3:30AM, so we went looking for the boys. Hit their regular spots, the Phoenix, The Cock, The Standard, but couldn't find them anywhere. So we stopped in Coyote Ugly. What a joke that place is. Frat boys everywhere, probably too JV (junior varsity) to get into the real thing - Hogs & Heifers. And the girls, are cheap imitations. They can't dance to save their lives. We chugged our beers and left.

Got home around 4:30am, but I was up until about 6AM. Smoking cigarettes and staring at the ceiling in my room. Roaming around the apartment.

Restless.

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