I don’t have classes on Friday. So when people invite me out to do things on Thursday nights, to me it’s like “YAY! It’s FRIDAY! I can be drunk!” So I go out and buy a box of wine for every event I’m invited to on a Thursday night.
And so I got invited to a night of Rock Band/Guitar Hero/Band Hero. I invited John and then I hit the store for my wine. I picked up a nice big ole box of wine for myself and one for the rest of the people. I wished I had a sort of baby bjorn for my box of wine so that I could carry it around displaying the love I have for it because I love it enough to carry it in a weird contraption made for babies. I could also fill my cup immediately after it was empty.
But alas, no boxed wine bjorn exists.
Then I picked up John for once and he invited me into his dorm and it was clean. Mine is not a horrible mess but that’s only because I haven’t lived there for long yet but I just had this feeling like, “John picks up after himself.”
He was making me feel more and more like a heathen every day.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” I said while trying not to jump up and down because I was excited for video games based on playing “instruments” in time with dots that come on screen in time with music that is playing made by famous people.
John laughed at me and out we went to the fun and he carried the wine inside for me.
That’s when I realized that one of my friends is a vampire. Not that sparkly, whiney bull. He was biting someone when we got there. Not like “OH, I’m going to kill you,” but, “Imma take somma this.” She looked perfectly, maybe even ecstatic, over it. I deduced this was because I was schizophrenic or that vampire teeth had special pain killers built in like venom or something but good.
And it made sense to me. Like why would vampires need to suck a person dry anyway? I mean a pint of blood is a lot of blood and we can give like a pint of blood away all the time.
So the only vampires that really suck people dry are the obese ones and they couldn’t stay that way long because it’s kind of hard to catch people to eat when you’re an obese vampire. At least that’s the way I see it. These vamps have to watch their figure.
That’s when I realized that Mr. Vampire, my friend for the past two years I’ve been in college, was giving me that look. The same kind Anna gave me but more like, “I want to suck your blood and cuddle you every night for the rest of our lives.”
At least he didn’t come up to us like Anna did. He just went about his business, finishing up on the eerily happy girl before holding some gauze over her neck so it would clot.
So John and I decided it was time to get down to business. I got myself a healthy, moderate dose of wine in a small red cup.
I started drinking it and before I knew it was empty and we hadn’t even left the kitchen. Actually John hadn’t even shut the fridge yet when I handed my cup back to him to fill up.
“Molly, that was 16 ounces of wine you drank in like 2.4 seconds,” he informed me. He was exasperated and a little shocked. I could understand his feelings, I was exasperated and a little shocked that it didn’t last that long too.
“Well, maybe you didn’t fill it up right, try again!”
And so he did and this time I didn’t drink it all down. We walked into the living room to start playing our games with the rest of the group.
John got on the drums of evilness and I picked up a guitar. I was quite proud of myself because I had just recently started playing on expert level with high amounts of proficiency and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, today was the day to show that off. I was feeling loose and limber thanks to the meager amounts of wine that John had put in my cup (16 oz my butt, more like 2).
We quickly discovered that Band Hero has most likely the best song list ever. It’s like the way you feel inside about songs, you’re in love with all these songs that you don’t want to admit to (Spice Girls, Culture Club... JESSE MCCARTNEY?!). And there it is, right on screen, Band Hero, LOUD AND PROUD about it’s absolute LOVE of songs no one else can muster the courage to love.
So we started playing songs and I kept drinking and I was owning every song, even drunk. I was on top of the world, I was a Band Hero God. I could feel the mass of people bowing down around me in awe of my greatness. I was the Band Hero messiah, present to play them into salvation. I was the hero of Band Hero, there to catapult their imaginary band into greatness. I alone, carried the band to greatness.
And then came the point where I decided I was sick of JUST playing the guitar, it was time, my friends, for me to sing too.
I sing like a cow. And as you can tell, by this time I was trashed, utterly an inexorably drunk.
I wrangled the microphone away from some drunkard that probably only passed out afterwards because my awesome aura was all that was keeping them awake. I jammed it down in my cleavage to hold it in place, and despite discouraging remarks from John the Cyclops (ye of little faith), I started belting out lyrics.
It was then, that we owned Culture Club. I know these guys think they have something on the music scene but it’s nothing compared to me. And the girl playing base and John the Cyclops on drums.
“Do you really want to hurt me?” No because I am a Band HERO. That’s why, BAND HERO.
Then we started doing more songs after my complete ownage of not only one but two instruments. I remember screaming, not singing, into the microphone.
Sure the thing was blinking red because cows have a hard time actually hitting notes, but I was doing it and playing the guitar like a pro.
I think I even amazed John the Cyclops with my utter awesomeness at Band Hero. There was never anyone like me.
He made me stop when I started messing up. It wasn’t entirely my fault that I was messing up, there were far too many fret boards scrolling across the screen—way more than there were instruments.
John then drove me home as I yelled about how much I wanted that Band Hero game because it was awesome. I was in love. And then passed out.
When I woke up, I was fully clothed but tucked into my dorm bed cuddling my favorite Pokemon (Shinx all the way, baby).
I crawled out of bed and grabbed a pop-tart before plopping down into my hard, wooden desk chair. It was 10:04 am according to the clock sitting on top of the huge Band Hero box.