jello_shots raze in the winter of my nineteenth year, pete took me to a karaoke bar. he swore by rickard's red. said it was the best beer he'd ever had. it didn't taste any different to me than any other medium-bodied ale i'd poisoned myself with on any other night. our server was pushing shots on us. sweet gelatin and vodka in plastic takeout sauce containers. the kind they fill with salad_dressing to soak your shaved lettuce and unripe tomato and grated carrot and single slice of radish. those shots had no bite at all. we bought them anyway. this cute girl with curly hair told us she was a country singer. she was too scared to set foot on the stage. one guy got up there and sang a garth brooks song. he was good. no one even knew he was there. they wanted a drunken train-wreck. they didn't want to hear someone who knew what they were doing. i told pete we should do a duet of "you've lost that lovin' feelin'". call ourselves the unrighteous brothers or something. two other jokers beat us to it. maybe they heard me talking and thought they'd get there first. or maybe all drunk people think alike. they couldn't hit one good note to save their lives. it wasn't even funny. it was just bad. everyone laughed and screamed and clapped. the curly-haired country singer smiled. i bet she sang like angels sing. sweet as dying sounds, if you're lucky enough to die clean. 230928 what's it to you? who go blather from