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Night Spies 

This week at: Bobby Love's

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This story begins with me waking up with a black eye and dried blood on my face and not remembering what had happened the night before. My roommate, aka Dr. Fun, had a bunch of people over partying at our apartment and we decided to go out. The last thing I remember was being knee-deep in booze at about eight o'clock. Here's what Dr. Fun told me happened next. We came here, and even though I don't typically do karaoke, I immediately signed up for 20 songs. I also volunteered to do a duet of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" with the barbecue vendor out front, who was suddenly my best friend. Before I got my turn, however, I climbed up on our table, kissed not one but two ex-boyfriends, and insulted the owner of the bar. When the DJ deemed me too drunk to go onstage, I grabbed the mike and screamed at the crowd, "They won't let me sing! Throw your hands up if you want to hear some rock 'n' roll!" The entire audience was calling for me, but the DJ still refused, so I yelled, "If I can't sing, I'm out of here. Who's with me?" I threw down the mike, bolted out the door, and immediately tripped over the barbecue stand, where the guy was still waiting to do a duet with me. My friends scraped me off the sidewalk and took me home and put me to bed.

--Kim Seipel, cocktail server

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