Saturday, December 30, 2006

Just returned from work to find myself home alone. Rhett has been kidnapped by the neighbors or sucked into a vortex, one of the two. I can't remember which. So, I thought now would be the perfect time to continue my essay.

What I Did On My Christmas Vacation

By Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler

Chapter 3 How Alcohol Inhibits Memory Recall: The Story of How Scarlett (yeah, me) Forgot the Words to the Ubiquitous Song: Brown Eyed Girl

After leaving Canada's Mom's house, Rhett and I met my highschool friend TMK and her girlfriend at a fabulously chi-chi restaurant in the Central West End of St. Louis. Immediately I was nervous, because although we've been communicating nicely via MySpace, this was to be the first actual conversation we've had in four years. And some major revelations occured. Namely she is involved in a relationship with a woman. I hate to sound pedestrian, but I was surprised, okay with it, but surprised nonetheless. I mean if anyone should be okay with a gay friend it should be me. Cause you know when the Belding's aren't looking I'm teaching little Liam, the Colin Ferril Baby Pirate, jazz hands.

Anyway, we both sucked down our first glass of wine and pretty soon all the first date nerves went away for both. We had a great conversation. TMK is just as funny as she always was. The girlfriend is a really great person and seems to compliment TMK's personality really well. I hope to get to know her better in the future.

Anyway, dinner was FAN-effing-TASTIC! We split potstickers, sushi (me not so much) and summer rolls (yummers!) I ordered the roast duck paired with 4 glasses of Red Zinfandel. Good lord that was good! Although I talked so much during the meal that the server asked me if something was wrong with the food.

Afterwards we decided to hop next door to a favorite pub, Llewellyn's. It was packed being that everyone from STL was home for the holidays. There was a guy singing with a guitar. Rhett and I split a pitcher of Smithwicks. Then don't you know, the urge to sing at the top of my lungs overwhelms me. I did ASK guitar guy if I could sing. He said yes. This is a little fuzzy and I'm sharing what was relayed to me by Rhett the next morning. Apparently I tried to adjust the microphone stand to my height, which the guy didn't like. Then I start to sing, but suddenly the 4 glass of wine and the 2 pints cause my brain to shut down, like a double A battery in a Christmas present left on over night.

I'm standing on stage looking at a crowd of easily 150 people. Deer in the headlights. Forgot the lyrics to Brown Eyed Girl. Guitar guy is waiting for me to sing, but realizes I'm a drunk fool and won't be recalling the following:

Do you r'member when, we used to say
Sha la la la la la la la la la la la ti da

Guitar guy asked me if he could finish. I sheepishly said, "yeah go ahead, sorry." I then took my seat back at our table. TMK's girlfriend told me that if I'd had brown eyes I'd have remembered the lyrics. True. So true.



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