Last night I went to the Berlin Station Cafe for karaoke again with Kate, and this time Mike came along. Poor Mike looked traumatized every time someone other than me, Kate, or a few other people sang, and he kept getting frustrated because they didn’t have any of the songs he wanted to do. (My love is quite picky when it comes to music. It’s a good thing I’m a decent singer, or else I’d be afraid of singing in front of him!)

I didn’t tweet at all this time because I was too busy singing song after song, getting mauled by strangers who wanted to adopt me, and laughing at Mike’s horrified facial expressions during songs where people who were just having fun did songs he really liked and ruined them. Ah, good times, good times.

I did the following songs:

• “Head Over Feet” — Alanis Morissette
• “Going Under” — Evanescence
• “I Turn To You” — Christina Aguilera

I was going to do “Fallin’” by Alicia Keys, too, but we left a little early so that Kate could get up for work in the morning. I feel like I did another song, too, but I can’t think of what it was.

Kate did:

• “Mercy” — Duffy
• “Sweet Child o’ Mine” — Guns N Roses
• “No More (Baby I’ma Do Right)” — 3LW

and I think she did another one, too, but again, brain isn’t awake enough right now to put it all together.

Mike just cheered us on, sipped my beer while I got drunk, and made this adorably traumatized face when some guy did Disturbed, some lady did Evanescence, and a couple of guys did Snoop Dogg. (Kate and I were amused; we take karaoke seriously enough to do songs in our range, but we both seem to thoroughly enjoy watching other people, whether they’re good or bad.)

As Mike drove us back home (Kate lives twenty minutes away from me), I sang “Fallin’” because in my drunken mind, I was gonna get that song out of my system, dammit. Then I sang “Delayed Devotion” by Duffy. I started to sing something else, and then got sidetracked because we started talking. Or, well, he started talking. Then I started talking with him because I’m ADHD like that.

Altogether it was a fun night. I really like the bar, and even though it’s quite a ride away from my house, I think it’s worth it. I like it so much, in fact, that it’s in my novel. (I mean, I’ve only been to like five bars in my life, so that qualifies me to decide on a bar now.) I really like the atmosphere, the people, and the all-you-can-drink for $10 special (you get any of the drafts and the first row of hard alcohol, which is mostly vodka, but whatever, I love vodka). It pays off once you’ve had a few beers, and now that I’ve been drinking a couple weekends in a row again, I can drink more than a couple beers before I’m sloshed. Heh.

Ahead of me this weekend now is more writing, some work on a client’s website, some research for another client’s social media marketing plan, my Colts game against the Ravens (should be good, too bad I have to miss most of it), and a baby shower for Mike’s brother (which is smack in the middle of my game). We got the baby some cute stuff though, and a few things that I think Robbie and Jaysa will really, really appreciate. I realized as Mike and I were shopping that I know entirely too much about raising a child for my age.

“It’s because you have so many friends with kids,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. It’s just weird, being surrounded by people with kids and still not being in The Mom Club. Believe me, I know my time will come, but in the meantime it’s a little awkward. Still, it’s nice to be able to enjoy other people’s kids without having to worry about the financial end of it or the other scary bits about parenting. Mike and I have long talked about someday having kids of our own; we both love kids and can’t wait to have our own. But we both know that we have a lot of work to do before then (so if any of my family is reading this, you guys can breathe now). Heh.

Anyway, I don’t know how I got from alcohol to babies, but this couple at the bar last night — they said they were thirty but looked a lot younger — just loved me. It was a drunken love, but it was love. They grabbed my wrist with the LOVE tattoo while I was getting a refill on my beer and both screamed at the same time. She kept telling me that she really, really wants that tattoo, except the O shaped as a heart. The next time I stood next to them waiting for a refill, they proclaimed that I am their daughter from the future, because I’m beautiful and bold enough to do karaoke. I was like, “uh, thanks,” and pretty much just squirmed while they sat there squeeing and telling me that they were gonna make a baby that night and that they hope their daughter is like me.

Hey, I guess it’s better than getting hit on by an old man at a hip hop bar.