Here’s To Good Fiends

I’m in the mood to sing!

Here’s to good fiends
Tonight is kinda special
Where are we?
What the hell is going on?
Crop circles in the armpit
Sinking, feeling
Spin me around again
And rub my eyes
This can’t be happening
Mm, what’d you say?
Mm, that you only meant well
Well of course you did
Mm, what’d you say?
Mm, that it’s all for the best
Of course it is
Mm, what’d you say?
Mm, that it’s just what we need
You decided this
Mm, what’d you say?
Mm, what did she say?
The beer we pour must say something more
Because from yelling my throat is sore
Your lips move and I can’t hear what you say

Leaving the small town for the big city did have one unfortunate side effect: We left all of our friends behind this presented a problem, especially since I stubbornly refuse to make new ones.

Thus, when old friends come to town, we’re excited to see them. “We should get together,” we say with genuine enthusiasm.

“Great. Meet us at the Chinese restaurant/karaoke bar, Saturday night, 9pm.”

Oh, shit. I want to die.

Rather that trying to write anything of substance, I’ll simply mention a few highlights of the evening. A lack of substance was also the theme of the evening.

• It was like Chinese food, only drowned in vinegar. My wife says in the restaurant industry that means they are trying to kill us.
• We were at a big table 10 feet from a karaoke stage. Nuff said.
• Music was so loud we couldn’t talk.
• Everyone at the table beside me and my wife was masturbating on their vibrators playing with their smartphones.
• Our companions drank like fish drowning in a tsunami on an ocean planet. Where liquid was alcohol. This really elevated the quality of the conversation.
• They showed up with a bunch of people we didn’t know and gave them the bulk of their attention.
• Did I mention there was a fucking cover charge. To get into a restaurant? ZOMG. Fresh hell!
• Our friend was getting a divorce. The few parts of the conversation I did manage to hear involved trashing of the spouse, also our friend.
• I tried ordering a “Cheney Blast to the Face” but they brought me a Mai Tai instead.
• Bored out of my friggin’ skull, I passed the time by trying to imagine songs I might get up and sing for the entertainment of total strangers. I considered and never had the guts to act on any of the following: Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit, Violence Fetish by Disturbed, Die Motherfucker by Dope, Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine, Make The World Go Away by Elvis, Run Run Rudolph by Bryan Adams, Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and I Hate My Life by Theory Of A Deadman. Any one of those would have been epic if only I had the guts.

My wife and I begged out at 11pm and got home way after bedtime. What the hell was the point of that? A single Facebook post from our friend would have been more fun and informative and that’s saying a lot.

Thought: The worst singers in the whole world got off on singing. Understatement. Why did they have to get up there repeatedly all night long? At least I had the temerity to keep my ass in a chair and my mouth shut. That’s just basic human decency.

My only conclusion is that our former friend wanted to give us a big “fuck you.” Mission accomplished.

I put the bottle to my head and pulled the trigger…