The Daily Procrastinator

Hello again, procrastinators! This wrap-up will bring you up to speed on what’s been happening here at The Daily Procrastinator for the last two weeks. Normally, as you’ve noticed by now, I’m sure, there’s a weekly wrap-up in your email every weekend. Last weekend, that didn’t happen. I procrastinated. Surely you knew that was a possibility. TDP has been as busy as ever in the past two weeks, and this is your chance to make sure that you’ve read every tasty bit. Let’s take it one week at a time, shall we?

March 16 – March 20

The week began with two posts by TallGirl, addressing first the dust-covered rollerblades she discovered while cleaning her garage, and then the combined narcissism and bad PR decisions of A-Fraud.

After many, many hours of celebrating Irish heritage, BigRedPoet (who’s German and French Canadian, by the way) published Part 1 of the beer-fueled St. Patrick’s Day adventure, chronicling the daylight hours and early evening. Part 2, which is perhaps slightly less coherent, details the happenings of the late evening and pursuant VERY early morning. Because she’s such a helpful friend, TallGirl offered a few hangover cures for anyone whose St. Patrick’s Day celebrations got out of hand.

The week ended with both lasciviousness and laughs as TallGirl wrote about her recent hot upskirt experience, and the newest Procrastinator, Marmite, bemoaned the unfortunate truth that Snuggies are taking over the world.

This break between weeks is brought to you by a grumpy, land-based koala bear. His name is Jeff.

March 23 – March 27

TallGirl started the week by wondering how FaceBook can simultaneously inspire curiosity, nostalgia, and low-level retrograde anger. As someone whose face has not been booked, I’m tempted to go sign up, just to observe this curious phenomenon.

On Tuesday, BigRedPoet offered a review of the Elton John and Billy Joel concert that he and FlashCap attended in Houston. As it turns out, two straight men can attend such a concert without the benefit of female companionship and still have a GREAT time.

Wednesday’s post was drawn from a discussion thread about important childhood memories. Several of the Procrastinators offered interesting tidbits from their young lives. Check it out, and get to know your favorite Procrastinator just a little bit better!

On Thursday, FlashCap expressed disbelief and outrage at a remarkably ignorant news article written by an ESPN reporter and posted on the company’s website. You’ve got to read it to believe it. As FlashCap seethed over the incompetence of paid professionals, TallGirl realized that Spring (the wily bugger) had sneaked up on her while she wasn’t watching. When it jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!“, the resulting joy turned into a TDP post.

BigRedPoet discovered something disturbing on Friday. While he was procrastinating by watching YouTube videos, he discovered that the Starburst Berries & Cream commercial that he found so offensive the first time had been reborn in a techno-remix version. Yikes.

Visit The Daily Procrastinator at any of the links above and sign up to receive daily email updates so you never miss an article!

The Daily Procrastinator: Contributing to the Dramatic Reduction of Your Personal Productivity

Hello, procrastinators. Big Red Poet, here. I’m alive and well. In fact, I wasn’t even hung over this morning. Years of practice have finally paid off, it seems. Yesterday, FlashCap, who edited my St. Patrick’s Day: Part I post, assumed that I passed out at 7:53 p.m., just because my blog entries ended. Actually, nothing could have been farther from the truth, as FlashCap himself was about to discover. (Please note that my laptop didn’t accompany on the second half of my voyage, so the timestamps for my individual thoughts are absent from this half of my notes on the day.)

At 7:53, I discovered that WrongFoot and I were the only two members of our original group who were still at the bar, and he was talking about getting something to eat and heading for home. Frankly, I was pretty disappointed in the whole crew. I guess I just assumed we were in it for the long haul, but others didn’t make the same assumption. In hindsight, I guess they went out on St. Patrick’s Day, got drunk, and went home to crash. That’s what people do. I can’t hold it against them.

Late in the afternoon, FlashCap had texted me and asked me if we’d be out all night, since it seemed he’d get the chance to come out around 9:30 or so. When WrongFoot bailed out, I remembered both FlashCap’s text and the performance schedule of a local singer-songwriter named J. Putting two and two together, I called FlashCap and asked if he’d like to finish off his St. Patrick’s Day by going to J’s show and having some drinks. He seemed amenable, as did Pre, who texted me just moments later.

A few calls and text messages later, at a little after 10:00 p.m., FlashCap, Pre, and I sat in a funky little joint that’s a coffee house by day and a bar by night. J was just starting his second or third song when we arrived, and we settled in with a round of double-whiskey-sours. As J stormed his way through a mixture of original songs and cover tunes, we quickly killed the first round of drinks and sent FlashCap to the bar for another.

All over the cafe, the owners allow local artists to display and sell their work. While much of it didn’t catch my eye at all, one image appealed to me. Behind the stage, at the top of the rightmost column of displayed paintings, hung a black and white likeness of Zack de la Rocha, vocalist for Rage Against The Machine which was clearly based on this photograph. Although I know J quite well, I didn’t want to interrupt his set, so I didn’t get up to examine the painting closely. Zack stared intensely down at us throughout J’s show, though. Somewhere in there, we had a third round of double-whiskey-sours. Also, FlashCap, who attended a major university and proudly wears the associated ring, offered me a few choice words about my notes at 2:38 in Part I of this post.

After about an hour and a half of fantastic singing and playing, J stepped off the stage to take a break. We decide to wander down the street a few blocks to the area’s other Irish pub. I’d already spent 12 hours in the first one, so it seemed only sensible to at least pass through the second. Each of us had a drink in hand that we didn’t want to abandon, so I told Mohawk Dave, a bar employee and friend of mine, that we were going to stash them behind the flower pot near the front gate and pick them up when we returned. Our drinks thus spared, we headed for the Irish pub. As we expected, the place was pretty packed. Upon seeing the sea of humanity at the downstairs bar, we decided to make our way upstairs in the hopes that it wouldn’t be quite as full. This was not to be, but we stayed upstairs anyway. Within a few moments of reaching the second story, we bumped into Pre’s friend, the guy with whom I’d played Super Mario Brothers 3 for a couple hours earlier in the day. While conversation started up, I headed for the men’s room.

As I navigated the crowd, I abruptly came face to face with a woman who had obviously had drunk about twice her responsible limit of beers for the day. After leering drunkenly at me for a moment and wobbling as she attempted to commence locomotion, she staggered off in the direction of FlashCap and Pre. When I returned from the men’s room, Pre’s friend and his group were gone, and the drunken lady was sitting at their table with a pained expression on her face. The chuckling and smirking between Pre and FlashCap told me I’d missed something good.

Apparently, while I was relieving myself of about four pints of Guinness, the drunken woman did a total faceplant right in front of Pre, FlashCap, and Pre’s friends. According to firsthand accounts, “she somehow managed to fall right on her ass and also hit her head on the floor.” I can scarcely imagine the drunken calisthenics involved in such a feat, but I’m bummed that I missed it. When she sat down at their table, Pre’s friends decided their night was over and headed for home. They were gone when I returned. A few moments later, the woman got up and actually walked down the stairs. I was sure we were going to hear some thumps and shouts from the staircase, but she apparently made it to the bottom without incident.

Nodding toward the table where first Pre’s friends and then the drunken woman had sat, Pre said, “They left a couple beers that the didn’t even sip yet. They said to drink up.” The best beer is somebody else’s beer, and I know it. I immediately snatched up a pint of room-temperature green Miller Light and commenced to teach it a lesson. FlashCap was more hesitant. It seemed he didn’t want to be seen poaching a “used” beer off a recently vacated table, so I grabbed it and thrust it into his hand. Before long, we each had an empty pint glass in hand. Pre didn’t seem thirsty.

While walking from the Irish bar back to our original location, we were accosted by a guy who seemed to need money. It was hard to tell exactly what was on his mind because his spoken English left much to be desired. From what I could gather, he needed three dollars because his “old lady” was “trippin’” on him. I took this to mean that either his wife was angry with him or his mother was hopped up on LSD. Either way, I didn’t have any cash on me. FlashCap and Pre didn’t either, but that didn’t stop this guy from following us back to the bar and asking the other patrons for three dollars.

Returning to J’s show and rescuing our drinks from behind the flower pot, we settled in for the second set. Within a few moments, Mohawk Dave showed the panhandler to the door and offered him a few words of encouragement which I can only assume mean the guy won’t be back for a while. I also saw one of the local artists who displays his work at the bar wander in. It took only a few moments of conversation to establish that he had painted the Zack de la Rocha and he would sell it to me for $40. Needless to say, that painting is now in the back seat of my car.

Believe it or not, at one point in the second set, J covered the Tool song Aenema on his acoustic guitar, and when he finished that, he transitioned seamlessly into the Foo Fighters’ Everlong. It was really impressive, and I could see FlashCap’s attitude toward J shifting from casual appreciation to genuine respect. About this time, my friend MovieGirl, who had apparently read Part I of this post shortly after it was posted, texted me to tell me that she, too, did not appreciate my comments at 2:38. I think she was mostly feigning offense. I hope so. Apparently, I need to be more careful in my commentary about college rings, especially in this town.

The remainder of the show passed without incident, and once J finished up his killer set, FlashCap, Pre, and I headed to the nearby Taco Bell to get some solid nutrition before heading to bed. Since when does Taco Bell close at 2 a.m.? This seems totally pointless to me. The only reason we have Taco Bell is so we can eat there after going to the bar. They need to realize their primary customer base and adjust their hours accordingly. With tears in our eyes, we headed to the nearby Whataburger and grabbed some greasy fast food to eat while we drove back to our respective homes. Thus ended our St. Patrick’s Day 2009.

So…What did we learn today?

• I am apparently incapable of catching a buzz from drinking alcoholic beverages. It’s a serious annoyance. Reading both parts of this post, one will count six beers, an Irish Coffee, a mimosa, four (or five?) Irish car bombs, and four double-whiskey-sours. That’s a pretty earnest effort to get drunk. Yet, when we left J’s show, I was stone sober. You can ask FlashCap. He was there.
• NES and SNES games are every bit as much fun now as they were when we were kids. Sure, xBox 360 and PS3 are amazing, but there’s just something about a badly-animated Italian plumber chasing a mushroom that no other video game can replace.
• My definition of “drink all day” differs significantly from others’ definitions. Clarify your plans with your friends, procrastinators.
• $120 is a pretty reasonable price to pay for a day of drinking and a sweet painting of Zack de la Rocha.
• The Taco Bell people need to pull their heads out and make me some tacos at 2:15 a.m.
• Even people who are so drunk they can’t walk across a level floor without busting their asses are capable of navigating staircases.
• People who attend major universities, the kinds of universities that issue their students rings, are kinda sensitive to comments that involve phrases like “completely insane with devotion to their university.”

Until next year, my work is done here.

The local Irish pub celebrates St. Patrick’s Day in a BIG way each year, and I’m part of a dedicated group of revelers who truly live it up every year. The bar opens at 8:00 a.m., and they don’t kick us out until 2 a.m. At the moment, it’s 8:06 a.m., and I’m about to grab my first pint of Guiness. Here’s the record of the rest of the day (Be warned, this is likely to turn somewhat incoherent in a few hours):

8:00 – I arrive and park in a place DIRECTLY in front of the bar. There are already several people milling around outside. Luckily, my friend Ewok and her husband, Danny Boy,  have found a way to get into the bar before it’s actually open. They’ve claimed the best table in the place. At the booth, the two of them are sitting with a 70-year-old honest-to-god Irishman. This is a good sign. They’re both dressed in jeans and green t-shirts that bear the name of the bar. As for me, I’m wearing a “Lord Of The Beer” t-shirt. Thus clad, I open up the laptop and find the wireless network. So it begins. Irish music blares through the in-house speakers, there’s a rugby match on the televisions, and caterers are setting up warming dishes.

8:07 – Another co-worker, Pre, shows up. This is a pleasant surprise. We didn’t know he was coming, let alone that he was going to be one of the 8 a.m. All-Stars.

8:13 – Ewok and Danny Boy bring the day’s first pint of Guinness back to the table. I suddenly feel compelled to go get one of my own, along with some breakfast.

8:16 – I have procured a pint of beautiful black beer and a plate of green eggs and ham. Danny Boy notes that “Guinness is great morning beer…tastes so good.” Discussion of how Ewok and Danny Boy met in this very bar, on this very day, three years ago, ensues. I’m proud to say that I was there and facilitated the meeting.

8:28 – The breakfast is (or was, at this point) excellent, as is the Guinness. My roommate, WrongFoot, has yet to arrive. He is now likely to become the subject of rather serious ridicule.

8:32 – And WrongFoot is here. He brought extension cords, duct tape, a small television, an NES system, and god knows what else. Nice. He is forgiven for showing up late.

At this point, I feel compelled to point out the provisions we’ve brought with us for the day. We have three kinds of Trivial Pursuit, Apples to Apples, a deck of cards, a cribbage board, UNO, two laptops, Marvel Scene-It, a TV, an NES system, SongBurst, beer dice, Times To Remember, various DVDs, and several other things I’ve likely forgotten but will list later, as they become useful. The day promises to be interesting.

8:43 – We begin to look for an outlet. We need POWER in this booth, damn it! How else will we run the computers, television, NES, etc? It’s not like we’re going to create a hazard. We’ve got duct tape to keep the cord out of the way…

8:49 – WrongFoot finds an outlet and starts laying cable. We’re in business. Sweet. Somehow, rugby has become interesting. Huh. The first Guinness of the day is dead. We begin to debate the first round of Irish Car Bombs. In case you’re wondering, a Car Bomb is a pint glass half-filled with Guinness into which you drop a shot glass filled with a mixture of Bailey’s Irish Crème and Jameson’s Irish Whiskey. You then pound it down, shot-style. It’s magnificent…like a boozy chocolate shake. Mmmmm.

9:02 – Jarhead arrives. Apparently, he had to go to work for a few minutes this morning and get some things in order. He informs us that he started drinking beer at 4 a.m. Consider the timeline. Nice. We’ve got a television set up, and the NES is soon to follow. Things are turning epic. We begin to realize that we could live in this bar for several days if zombies attacked. We could just lock the door and taunt them through the windows while we drank Guinness and ate leftover green eggs and ham.

9:11 – The first car bomb of the day has been ordered. As we did so, the guy next to us at the bar looked at us, looked at his watch, and look back at us, incredulous. Candy-ass. My bomb disappeared in one gulp. The bartender said, and I quote, “That shirt isn’t fuckin’ around, is it?” No, ma’am. As we return to the table, Pre grabs my laptop and shows us all the shoes he bought last night. They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen. Observe: http://www.vibramfivefingers.com/products/products_Sprint_m.cfm

We tried to order mimosas at the bar after drinking our car bombs. Sounded like a good idea. The bartender, though, informed us that they’re going to mix a whole bunch of them and give ‘em away around the bar in just a few minutes. Excellent, Smithers.

9:22 – We have just set up the NES. Meanwhile, a member of the bar staff showed up to ask if we had empty glasses. He glanced at the NES, the power strip, my laptop, and the rest of the rigmarole. He didn’t say anything, so I guess we’re in the clear. Let this be a lesson to you, procrastinators, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

9:27 – In the first Super Tecmo Bowl match of the day, WrongFoot selects Buffalo, and he faces Jarhead, who will play the Giants. Also, the first “That’s what she said” joke of the day is made. Where the hell are those mimosas?

9:41 – While waiting for the OJ-and-champagne to arrive, I decide to have an Irish Coffee. It appears that The Giants are doomed.

9:48 – While WrongFoot and Jarhead approach the end of their Super Tecmo Bowl showdown, Ewok and Danny Boy bust out Skip-Bo. Ewok offers the theory that the origins of the game’s name involve an obnoxious kid named Bo whose turn people liked to pass over because he was an ass. It seems possible. WrongFoot emerges victorious, and Pre sits down to challenge him next. Estimated population of the bar: 100.

9:52 – Danny Boy steps out, saying, “I’m gonna go call my mom and wish her a happy St. Paddy’s Day.” WrongFoot replies, “Tell her I’ll call her later.” Beautiful. All bets are officially off.

9:58 – People I don’t know have joined us: a genuine Irishman and his wife. They’re friends of Danny Boy’s. They seem to add legitimacy to our celebration. Apparently, “There is no punting in Tecmo Bowl.” Discussion breaks out regarding whether converted Catholics or those born into the faith exhibit more fervor.  Converts get the nod.

10:07 – Danny Boy’s brother, Castro, shows up with a bottle of Taddy Porter in hand. We all remember, but nobody mentions, that this is the guy who threw up in the booth at about 10:30 last year…10:30 a.m. WrongFoot takes Phil Simms out of the game and puts in Jeff Hostetler. This seems like a bad choice. Our neighbors have noticed our setup and have begun snapping photos.

10:19 – Mimosas are not forthcoming. Damn it. A Strongbow Cider will have to do. Meanwhile, the morning crowd has begun to dissipate. I guess they just showed up to say they went to the bar at 8 a.m., and they’re now running back to their beds. Danny Boy and Castro just stepped outside for a cigarette. While they stood outside our window, gleefully trying to get cancer, Jarhead stood up on the bench in the booth and pressed his naked ass against the window where the smokers could get a good look at it.

10:34 – Mimosa. Free. Excellent. Jarhead has run across the road to the convenience store and brought back three flavors of Corn Nuts, Funyuns, and something called Cheese Munchies. We’re in good shape, now. Especially if zombies attack. We decide that 11:00 is the moment for our next Car Bomb. Rumors circulate that there will be karaoke this afternoon. Somebody on the far side of the bar hoists a beer and begins shouting, a long and sustained cry of celebration. It’s a social. Around the bar, every pair of lips meet a glass.

10:46 – Bar staff announces that the next 15 people to order a pint of Guinness will earn a key. There will be several opportunities throughout the day to earn keys. On the bar sits a box with a lock on it. Afterward, everyone with a key gets a chance to see if theirs works. There’s a mad rush to the bar. Drunkenness has already begun to make itself apparent. Danny Boy gets two pints and a key. This bodes well. It seems Pre and WrongFoot are on about their fourth game of Super Tecmo Bowl. I’m no longer sure who’s winning.

10:52 – Danny Boy’s key opens the box. He wins a t-shirt with the date 3/17/09 on the front, with each number separated by a shamrock rather than a slash. On the back, it’s got the Bushmill’s and Bailey’s logos.

11:00 – The 11:00 car bomb is postponed until 11:05 or so. WrongFoot and Pre have to play the entire fourth quarter of a game of Super Tecmo…which is about five minutes in actual time. WrongFoot is overheard to say, “You’re lucky I didn’t put Tomczak in sooner.” Nobody has ever said that before, I bet.

11:12 – The 11:00/11:05-ish car bomb has been accomplished. The bar staff is starting to wonder about us, I’m quite certain.

11:19 – Apples To Apples commences. A random guy from among the throng joins us, simply because he likes this game.

11:31 – Apparently, “Batman” is not a winning match to the word “Rich.” This is crap!

11:39 – Is it possible to suck at Apples To Apples? Meanwhile, we take a break to get beers and let those who smoke…smoke. I have zero green apple cards, at this point. The Irish guy has two because, apparently, Bigfoot is Cranky. He’d be fine if those beef-jerky-munching bastards would just leave him alone.

12:03 – The bar is filling up nicely. People are now standing because all seats are filled. Also, the caterers just showed up with the corned beef and cabbage. I haven’t seen them, but I can smell it. Also, Jarhead’s wife, Vixen, shows up.

12:17 – Lunch is served. Sitting before me is a heaping plate of shepherd’s pie, corned beef and cabbage, barbecued brisket (which seems slightly out of place), and a dinner roll. Apples To Apples is officially called off. I’ve got a pint of Purple Haze to accent my lunch.

12:26 – Imagine a couple-hundred drunkards singing along to “With Or Without You” while you eat lunch. It’s a nice scene.

12:44 – We’ve shifted songs to “Mysterious Ways,” and several more people who I don’t know have joined the group. They are suitably impressed by our NES setup and internet access. One of the gang updates her FaceBook status from my laptop. It now says “(Name) has been at (bar) since 9:30, and she’s having more fun than you. Just sayin.’” The NES is up and running again, and I’m playing Super Mario Brothers…the original.

1:20 – I rescued princesses in each of the first three castles before losing all my lives. I skipped all the warp zones. That’s just cheap. Why can’t the damned princess be in the first castle, or the second, even? I went through a lot of trouble to save her badly-animated ass; the least she could do is show up. At the least, she could text me: “Am in csl 8. luv P. :0)” Is that so much to ask? Also, the 1:00 car bomb has been defeated. Huzzah.

1:27 – Ha. The two people who went after me couldn’t get past world 1-4. I rule. They can’t even bitch about that first chick who’s not the princess because they didn’t GET to her.

2:01 – I got to level 5-3 this time. My thumb hurts and I need a beer. Everyone’s lunch seems to be setting in, and there’s a bit of a lull in the action. T-Money has arrived, along with his sidekick. The sidekick appears to either be drunken already or hopped up on painkillers. At this point, Jarhead claims he can finish Super Mario Brothers in 11 to 13 minutes. We’ll see.

2:06 – He didn’t make it.

2:12 – T-Money is now trying his hand at Mario Brothers. He’s on 5-2, which is a threat to my…never mind. He just died. I’m now having an Optimator. I’ve lost track of WrongFoot, Pre, Ewok, Danny Boy, and Castro. The Irishman and his wife are still within sight, though. The others will be back soon enough, I’m sure…and if they’re not, I’ll proudly carry on in their absence.

2:22 – Super Tecmo Bowl has returned. Jarhead is facing Pre, and the competition is intense. We’ve also bumped into some elementary- and middle-school teacher friends. The crowd grows.

2:29 – T-Money discovers that I’m blogging. How he has missed this for the last several hours, I have no idea. Anyway, he offers a shout-out to…well…to everyone.

2:38 – The first truly alcohol-inspired conversation of the day commences as WrongFoot and I debate whether anyone who wears a college ring is some sort of a crazy. I hold that they are. He doesn’t think so. Let’s just say I never even SAW a college ring until I moved to this college town. Ever. Here, everyone has one, and they’re all completely insane with devotion to their university. Frankly, I win.

2:57 – It seems Ewok has reached some sort of critical mass. She has retreated to her car, where the back seat lays down and she has a pillow stashed away. Not a bad idea, except I’m pretty sure I’d feel like some sort of pansy if I succumbed to such temptations. Meanwhile, we decide that 3:00 is a fine time to have the next car bomb.

3:03 – Car Bomb mission: accomplished. It occurs to me that there can’t be many intact cars left in Ireland, at the rate we’re going.

3:06 – A friend of ours, DSG, has noticed that we have the Retro Duo system, which plays both NES and SNES games. We only have one SNES cartridge, though, so she took pity on us and ran up to her nearby apartment and grabbed her stack of ‘em. We now have quite the selection of video game options. Also, there’s a girl in the bar who’s truly frightening. She’s decided to wear a shirt that’s ripped open down the back and doesn’t cover her spare tire. She’s complemented this lovely top with a pair of ultra-mega-low-rise jeans that scarcely conceal her ankle socks. She’s rockin’ like six inches of butt cleavage. The autumn of her wardrobe has arrived, and her pants are migrating south. It’s really not okay. Jarhead has declared that in about three beers, he’s going to sneak up behind her with a napkin and stick it in her buttcrack, just to make her aware of the situation. What a fantastic idea. I’m not in favor of ridiculing people based upon their looks, but at some point a person has to learn to dress for his or her physique. Really.

3:17 – Upon examining DSG’s selection of games, I see that she’s got Super Mario All-Stars, Primal Rage, and Super Mario World. We are SET. After all, Super Mario All-Stars has Super 1, Super 2, Super 3, and Lost Levels. That’s good stuff, people.

3:24 – Drunken conversation continues as Castro insists that Robert Downey Jr.’s performance in “Tropic Thunder” is at least as Oscar-worthy as Heath Ledger’s portrayal of Joker in “The Dark Knight.” Is this guy serious? Communist.

3:40 – Super Mario Brothers 3…When was the last time YOU played it? Pre, I, and some guy I don’t know are struggling to remember all the tricks and secrets. So far, we’re handling it pretty well. We’ve got two warp whistles, which isn’t bad for a trio of tipsy guys.

3:59 – Holy crap. St. Patrick’s Day karaoke just started. It’s not likely that this will end well. Nevertheless, I’m pretty excited. We’ve reached 2-3 on Super Mario Brothers 3, for those keeping score.

4:04 – Another co-worker arrives. Let’s call her NewGirl. I can honestly say that I didn’t expect her to come out today, but I’m glad to see her. She’s cool. She’s many drinks behind, though. We Mario players have just gained the Frog Suit. Oh, yeah. Meanwhile, somebody is singing “Baby Got Back” on karaoke. The nasty girl in the mega-low pants is now being hoisted shoulder-top in front of the karaoke stage, and it’s STILL not okay.

4:25 – We’ve just finished Bowser’s Castle on the second map, and some girl just NAILED “Come Together” on karaoke. Good God, that’s sexy. After that, we get treated to a pretty good rendition of “All That She Wants.” Flashback to high school!

4:38 – I pass one of those annoying levels with the giant, all-swallowing fish. Meanwhile, Castro sings “Only The Good Die Young.” I need a beer, but I don’t really feel like walking to the bar. We decide that 5:00 will be car bomb time.

4:50 – For reasons unexplained, Jarhead has just crumpled up his plastic leprechaun hat and thrown it to the floor and then belly-bumped the Irishman’s wife, sports-bar style… We’re stuck on the airship on world 3. We’ve lost like 10 lives on this level, and it’s NOT cool.

4:59 – Danny Boy knocks out “Lookin’ Out My Back Door” on karaoke, and we celebrate with a car bomb. Meanwhile, some fool does “Vanilla Ice.” Why does every douchbag in every karaoke bar in America think he can do this song?

5:10 – The 5:00 car bomb was a success, and I’ve got a fresh Strongbow. Things are looking good. We’re still stuck on the airship in World 3. This is less cool by the minute. To add to my mournful moment, Pre has left. He says he may be back later. Here’s hoping.

5:14 – Airship 3 is DEFEATED! Of course, now we have two lives left. Also, somebody is doing Snoop Doggy Dog on karaoke.

5:22 – And we’ve run out of lives. Luckily, we can use the “continue” feature. Some guy is singing a crappy emo song on karaoke, and my partner has used the warp whistle to take us to World 7. This can’t be good. A bartender has just thrown a Carolans Irish Crème pin at me, so that’s been added to my various beads and such.

5:33 – The nasty girl with the unnecessarily low pants just sang Jewel. Things are reaching kind of a lull. Various people are singing various lewd songs, including the current guy, who’s trying to sing “F%&k Her Gently” by Tenacious D. I can live without this song, really.

5:54 – The action of the bar slows considerably while everyone stops and watches karaoke. I’m not sure where Danny Boy and Castro have gone…Ewok informs me, however, that Castro has headed home, which I suppose means he won’t be puking in the bar this year. That’s good, I guess?

6:01 – I just remembered to feed my parking meter, which is overdue by, like, four hours. Oops. NewGirl is sitting in the booth with a noncommittal smile on her face, but I’m not sure she’s having a good time. Danny Boy just sang Dire Straits’ “Romeo And Juliet” on karaoke, which is one of my favorite love songs, and he did it justice. World 7 is thwarting us considerably. The “continue” function is our constant friend.

6:09 – “Piano Man” on karaoke. EVERYONE is singing. You should be here.

6:10 – My head hurts from singing at the top of my lungs. I need to take a breath. Luckily, some woman is singing a country song called “Have Mercy” that I’ve never heard.

6:25 – Will the real Slim Shady please stop singing karaoke?

6:57 – Karaoke has distracted me, but it’s time for the 7:00 car bomb.

7:00 – Karaoke has ended, but I don’t really care.

7:37 – Wow. The crowd has thinned out considerably. My memory for coming over to the laptop to type is beginning to suffer a little. Most of our group has left. Only WrongFoot and I remain. Lame. What a bunch of half-asses.

7:53 – So…it’s just me and WrongFoot.

[ed: at this point we have to believe BRP passed out]