April 11, 2003
Loser, Baby
I am a loser.
No, seriously, I am. I mean, I lost. The karaoke contest I've been in the running for for six weeks was last night, and of five contestants, I didn't even place. I do not like to brag, and, moreoever, it would do no good here, seeing as none of you have ever heard me sing. Point being. I should've won, but because I had only had one shot of some sort of raspberry 80 proof liquor and was not thoroughly silly enough to work the crowd, I lost. To a boy. Who sings sappy country songs, hugs women, and flexs his pectoral muscles.
I guess we all see what is important in this world.
I console myself only with the fact that the girl who stole my song (Dixie Chicks, 'Sin Wagon', I could've rocked it, this girl thinks she's hot shit but really she's rather lukewarm shit), also lost.
It was five hundred dollars! Do you have any idea how I need that!
Alas, it cannot be. I am unpopular, hence, I am a loser.
And I was too tired even to have the Pity Jill Sex Mike promised me. We had agreed, laughing, on having sex either way, be it celebratory or otherwise, but I was exhausted and curled up in bed while he stroked my hair. While not the same, was definitely as emotionally gratifying.
I feel like a glass of chocolate milk and some hardcore 'Morrowind' playing. I've become addicted. I am a Wood Elf named Astera, appropriately. Huzzah.
You know what, though? I think I do win. Because, when the contest was through, I got out on the dance floor in Mike's arms, and, despite my utter gracelessness, he twirled me about and softly sang the words to 'My Girl' in my ear. When he wasn't grinning.
Or wincing from me stepping on his feet.
astera at 7:20 p.m.