Body of beets, I stained my sheets…

Hi folks. This is from me earlier tonight when I was a the Roadhouse. I was bored, by myself and the only company I wanted to keep was with my trusty notebook. I decided to jot down my thoughts of the evening and this is what ensued. I hope you enjoy.

The Roadhouse. Saturday night. A cold bottle of Old Style and a warm fire by my side.
I feel awkward. I’m alone and am waiting for people I know to show up, but so far, nothing. I think I know the couple sitting at the table next to me, but I can’t be sure. I’m not one to go up to strangers and strike up a conversation, so for now, it’s my word against theirs.

In an effort to mask my uncomfort, I pulled out my notebook from my bag and grabbed a pen and started writing. Now suddenly, I’m the most interesting person at the bar.
“Look at the girl in the corner over there…..”
“Is she writing?”
“What’s she writing about?”
I coyly look around the bar, pretending to take break from my most important work.
No one is paying attention after all.
The row of men at the bar are too busy staring down into the bottom of their drink glasses; penny for their thoughts, I think.
It happens to be karaoke night tonight; one of many. This is what brings me out of the confines of my house. Several people are paging through song books, trying to find the perfect song to sing. So far, the talent is mediocre at best. An old man is singing some country western song about burying bones; a young woman sang No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak,”….I’m sure the song “means something” to her….
What’s this? Oh goodness……the deep fat fried cauliflower I ordered when I sat down has arrived. Hello, fried cauliflower, how I’ve missed you.
You know, for someone who can’t sing to save my own life, I’m awfully judgmental about these other singers.
*a guy starts singing a song by the band Megadeath*
I forget how much I enjoy Megadeath. “When death just isn’t death enought: new Mega Death!
Anyway, back to the story at hand.
More people keep filing in. Must not be much to do on this cold October night. Hell, I’m here so that confirms it. I like this place. It’s a home for everyone. I feel bad for sitting at a table by myself now that more people are here. It’s not like I’m in back of the bar and am ignoring all who I know that are coming in. In fact, I’m sitting at a small table next to everyone. I am part of the gang, yet still have an dair of “leave me be” about me, which is nice.
I like these people. There are my people. The Roadhouse is the Staten Island of Nebraska; “give me your poor, weak, huddled masses….”
Apparently, after three bottles of Old Style, I become more of a blathering idiot than usual.
*side note: I end up drinking a sixer. Please don’t hold that against me.*
Am I making social commentary? Hardly. More like the rantings of a person who desperately wants to think of herself as a “writer.”
Ain’t going to happen, toots.
Talk about depressing: wanting to do something but yet knowing deep down its a pipe dream. Mere fantasy. Damn it. It sucks realizing what you want to do isn’t feasible.
I’m waiting for Corey. I need a cigarette. He’s my supplier. Damn it, Corey, hurry up and get here already.
I’m also pretty bummed out that Chad isn’t here. Double yoo tee eff, Chad. You are the reason I came out tonight. Well, that and the booze, but you were on top of the list. In fact, here is the list of reasons I decided to get all purty and come out tonight, listed in order from most influential.
1. Internet was acting up. (Hey, I didn’t say Chad was the number one reason….I said he was a reason. Get over yourself, Holle.)
2. Chad and Corey! I love those two dunder heads.
3. Boredom. I can only update my Facebook profile so many times before it stops being clever and borders on compulsive and obsessive.
4. It has been a while since I’ve been out here at the Roadhouse. I have a rocky relationship with this bar–I always enjoy myself when here, but I forget forget that I do enjoy it when I’m not actually there to enjoy it. I know…..I’m special.
Hi Steve! Sorry, had to give a random shout out to Ledbetter. I saw him look in this general direction and wanted to make him feel loved.
5. My dog and I took a nap on the couch earlier and I got insanely warm. I woke up all mad at how warm I was, so I got up and started messing around with my hair and put on make up to distract myself from my madness. The distraction turned into “hey, go to the Roadhouse, you ninny!” Fine. I wasn’t about to argue with myself. Besides, I’m a bully and rarely ever win arguments with myself anyway.
6. This one is a bad reason, but I am drinking tonight to take the edge of the fact that I am going to spend time with my family tomorrow. Weeeeeeeee!
*side note: there was a fella that sang a song while I was writing this and after he got back to the table, she accusingly asked him “who were you singing that song to because it sure as fuck wasn’t me!!” Oooh….lovers quarrel. Oh snap, guy!*
7. Old Style. “nuff said.
And there you have it. My seven reasons for coming out and being a boozer.

At that point is where my beer took over and I stopped having the proper attention span to write any further, so let my fuzzy memory take over and fill you in on the rest of the evening.
I drank more, Corey finally showed up, I become best friends with random girls, I smoked a cigarette with my nose, I sang a song with my new best friends, last call, and I drove home.

The end.

I hope this glimpse into my night was insightful, entertaining, and above all, took you on a journey into your own selves….or something like that.

Peace out, darlings.

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