It's karaoke night down at O'Kelley's. Pat Benetar. Maybe Joan Jett. Mr. Big. We'll see how many songs they let me do before they realize I can't sing and they have to pry the microphone out of my little midget hands. Oh, and my voice is way more raspy than usual...losing it again. As my other personality, "The Tranny" would say, "Do you think he likes chicks with dicks?"
I am very quite possibly not making much sense right now. That tends to happen when you're stressed out helping the genius with his last minute science project, take a soma, are surviving on about 4 hours of sleep and have received the dreaded "curse". For the record, the weather forecast is loopy with slight chances of bitchiness and sarcasm.
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