05/31/2005 - 3:48 p.m. | gonna try not to fall down when i'm singin' for y'all

I always get this skewed perspective during the summertime where I tend to overestimate how long it's going to take me to get anything done. Like today, I sort of want to go back out for karaoke (oh god), but first I needed to call some people - about jobs (will he be working in a fireworks tent? will he?) and my grandma and the crossing guard people - and take a shower and maybe make Missy's t-shirts and write an entry or two here - and I was like, "No way - I'll have to spread this out over a series of days." Bullshit. If I put any effort forward at all, I'd be fine, so that's what I'm trying to do.

The things I came here to write about?

1.) I think I am going to gradually dye my hair dark brown instead of black. That way, when I form the Old 97's cover band, I will be that much more of a passable Rhett. Except the, uh, talent.

2.) The funniest thing to wear are incorrect dates. Like a shirt that says "Happy Easter!" is hilarious! And yesterday on "That's So Raven," Eddie had a shirt that said "1992" on it but was crossed out: 1992 Yeah, fuck 1992! It's over!

3.) I also wanted to tell you about Saturday:

During the day we went to the mall, Shelly, Kyle, and I, to return Shelly's awful maternity shirt and for me to get as much from the Great Steak place as was physically possible to cram into my body. Turns out to be a lot (Thanks, Tapey!) When we walked past the candy store, I peeked in to see who was working, and they were both strangers. Some Asian girl and this other girl with the most massive eyebrows I have ever seen. Bigger than mine even. Yeah, sorry to have missed out on you two winners, standing in silence.

Later, the plan was to do karaoke at Geo's, and I was determined to make up for lots of lost time, so I got bombed early and often. Here is a fable for you kids: Pot brownies and the like do not kick in very fast, but that does not mean you should eat a whole half a dozen of them because eventually they will kick in and you will be gone far, far beyond reason. That is a just a parable, though.

Addendum: Also don't try and choke down a whole bottle of wine with that. Yes.

I started out at least serviceable that night - on the walk to Geo's and such - but I spiralled down so far and so fast that most of the things that happened that evening were heard secondhand or were else recalled very vaguely the next day. We got a prime table up front (a very wise move) and because I couldn't read the books (Hey, hey - I wasn't that gone yet - I just didn't wear my glasses so as to look cuter), I just had Kyle and Shelly shout out songs to me and I would tell them what to put down. Then we waited.

I made it a point to shake everyone's hand who performed, telling them what a great job they did (I at least turn nice, huh?). I had apparently picked a flower during the trek over, so I threw it at some fat girl who was probably awful as I remember being full of high-energy sarcasm, but she took it as a sign of my interest and had to explain she already had a boyfriend. OH NO I GOT SHOT DOWN BY A FATTY Did I yell that? Did she hear it? I might have sat on stage for a while - did that bother some people?

Anyway, my song ("The Humpty Dance") came on, but there is a unique phenomenon that happens when I am this far gone. An impenetrable shell forms around my brain so that memories are allowed neither in nor out. Combined with my inability to read the lyrics screen, I couldn't rap the damn song at all, instead mumbling words vaguely and waving the microphone back and forth wildly as I sort of drunkenly bobbed. Good cover, Nate! I'm sure no one knew! Meanwhile Shelly just keeps yelling out songs, and of course I keep agreeing to them because I will never admit how fucked I am, so God only knows how much I am signed up for.

I start to fade in and out here, by which I mean I was constantly being sent on insane journeys through space and time - only to be suddenly be tossed back to earth (Geo's of all places?!) confused as all hell. I kept thinking I was in the islands or possibly The Cube and maybe heaven or hell or outer space, it's really hard to pinpoint. But during those periods I would just space the fuck out and make limited contact with the world. I had Kyle order me a soda, I think, and he went up and sang Creed ("With Arms Wide Open" - and in the musical break he said the pregnancy test came back positive, called Shelly up on stage, and gave her a kiss - Kyle is awesome) and later managed to get his dick caught in his zipper in the bathroom, but I don't really remember any of this happening.

Once dumped unceremoniously back to earth, I suddenly became "that guy." You know who I'm talking about. I was sent back up on stage with Kyle to sing God knows what, but I mostly succeeded in taking my microphone apart for God knows what reason (autism or something). The managers or whatever told Kyle to put it back together, as I was surely not capable (I thought it was impressive I did it all by touch, though!) They then came over and asked Kyle and Shelly what my name was, so that they could take me off the list for any future songs. Oh God, what an embarrassment am I.

But like that could stop me! Then I just started storming the stage, because a group of girls were singing "Life is a Highway," and that is what I wanted to sing, damn it, even if the words were gone from my mind. I stood behind them and danced and yelled until Kyle came up and dragged me down while everyone chuckled. Jesus Christ, what have I become?

And then we started the puking. I'd actually done it before we left, which we wouldn't call a positive sign, but I thought I was all through for the evening. Apparently not, as suddenly I'm just tossing cookies right there in the corner. Like I said, good thing we picked that spot, as Kyle and Shelly were able to keep me hidden as I did my business Then I started doing it in cups, though, which is pretty much the least classy thing in the whole world. Oh wait, I can top that: Confused about which cup my soda was in, I took a sip out of something and realized that it was far too lumpy and red and tortilla-chippy to be Pepsi. Yeah, moving on.

If anyone else had thrown up - if Shelly had, God forbid - we would have been out of there so fast it'd make your head spin. But I'm there puking on and on, somehow still not getting caught by staff (although I'm told others noticed - and I'm sure Geo and company eventually found my little surprises - please don't hold a grudge, guys!) and whenever I come out of my stupor, I try to insist that we go, and they just keep saying, "Wait for Kyle's song, wait for your song, blah blah blah." I was at least trying to get out while the getting was good. Maybe I needn't have even puked there. Yeah, right.

Was Clay Aiken there? No, but I think I kept calling the moderate singer guy that. Ha ha ha. Nate funny.

We started walking back, but Shelly of course forgot something and ran to go get it, leaving me and Kyle on the street in front of Schnucks. I started to get all philosophical, asking, "What's going to happen, guys?" Or my favorite, groping at them: "Are you solid?" Top form again, Mr. Walsh! Shelly gave me her phone time and again so I could leave slurring messages to myself ("for the diary!" I would cry) and then I would not stop doing my velociraptor impression, which may have been what caught the attention of the police, making them stop dead right next to us in the middle of the street. I don't know how we got out of that one okay. "Where are you guys coming from?" Shelly: "We're heading home!" Oh, OK. I guess the guy thought we were terrorists coming home from the post office? Uh, what?!

I got home and was all happy to be able to pass out, but fuck it all if my body was not ready for that yet. Yeah, time for a battle for my eternal soul between the forces of good and evil. Well, I don't know what it was, but it was like I was a puppet on a string, man. I had no control over my body and was just being tossed all around my bed, doing flips and spins and waving my arms, and I could hardly control it at all. It kept trying to drag me downstairs, and I would get halfway there and see Spritz and was like, "No! The eternal struggle must commence away from human eyes" and would then kind of jerk my head back towards the constant slamming about upstairs. It was weird as hell. I got no sleep.

The next day was a whole new sort of hangover, sort of like someone had beaten me with wet towels all night long. I walked in a daze and most certainly did not want to go to Sams, but there I was anyway. At least work was cancelled for the evening, allowing me the least required movement possible.

We won't let this one happen again.

Rubybeck: I forgot to tell you
Rubybeck: I met a bum at the bar
Rubybeck: he told me his name was
Rubybeck: get this, MOUNTAIN DEW

There has been talk of returning to Geo's for karaoke already, and I for one am not sure it is a great idea. It may be a little too soon for them not to recognize me, and if I don't immediately receive a lifetime ban upon entering, some of the waitstaff can be expected to hold a grudge.