June 04, 2002 | 9:48 AM

Right now I am barely functioning. I am hungover and completely exhausted.

I am a zombie.

Please God (or �The void� or whatever), make it so that I don�t actually have to deal with anything today at work, and can just sit here and pretend to be doing something.

I�ve found that staring intently at the computer screen and occasionally muttering under your breath, as though you�re having problems with a MS Office application, convinces people that you�re absorbed in something other than checking your diaryland stats.

I think I actually might still be drunk.

I haven�t been drinking at all lately. I had like, eight beers yesterday. It was fun, but now I want to die.

OK OK. To the business at hand.

The show last night.

Um, it was fucking awesome.

Jacque�s is quite possibly my favorite bar/club in Boston. And it was packed. I had no idea who three quarters of the people there were. Usually on Monday nights, it�s dead. I don�t know why it was so crowded. Maybe it was the diaryland promotion? Whatever. I�m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I always forget how much I love performing. How I never feel as safe or a real as I do onstage. John and I were so on yesterday. We were absolutely in sync with each other. We were fearless. We rocked out. No strings were broken. No lyrics forgotten. No off key notes were sung. It was one of the best performances we�ve ever given.

Some lady started dancing in front of the stage and she sprinkled dollar bills all over us. That was kind of neat. It made me feel like I was a stripper at a bachelor party, but whatever.

After the show, the same lady came up to me at the bar and told me that she was an agent. She said,

Have you ever heard of {insert name of semi-famous 70�s band here]?

I swigged from my 114th beer.

Oh yeah, sure.

She pounded her chest.

I used to manage them.

Oh. Good for you.

Honey, have you got an agent?

Um, no.

Honey, you need an agent. You could be the Second Coming of Janis Joplin. How often do you play?

Um, this is the first time I�ve performed in a year.

Well, that�s a fucking crime, sweetheart. Do you at least have a demo or something you could give me?

No.

A business card?

No.

Honey, I�m trying to help you out. And you can�t even give me fuckin� promo materials? Is this your hobby or is it something you actually want to do with your life?

Both.

Well, let me buy you a beer, anyway. And gimmee your number.

So I did. I wrote down the digits for the dancing, dollar bill dropping rock �n� roll manager. And she bought me a couple drinks.

We�ll see.

A couple d-land peeps came to the show. Suki and Outer-Jessie were there, which was awesome and so appreciated. They both have already met John and Jenn previously, and last night they got to meet Angus of SAGA fame, which I found highly amusing. I got an evil little thrill out of introducing them to someone whom both of them know about extensively because they�ve read part of my life story, and he has no idea that he has been immortalized. Yes, I know. I am a vindictive little cuntbag.

Rick Berlin played first and he was so great. He sounds kind of like Elton John and kind of like Fred Schneider from the B-52�s. He has this prog-rock quality that is so square, it�s hip, and his lyrics are both heartfelt and cheeky�my favorite combination. He has amazing presence too. I love that man.

After the show, Rick, John, Jenn and Angus, and I went out to The Kells for a few beers. Angus completely monopolized the conversation by talking about his (still unfinished after five years) screenplay. Rick actually seemed to be interested and enjoying the conversation. Maybe I was just irritated because of the way Angus treated me last time we hung out. But I was soooooo annoyed with him.

When we got home I hung out for a couple of minutes with John and Jenn, and I was drunk outta my mind. I am seriously just not used to drinking anymore. You can tell that you�re really really drunk when your friends start treating you like a small child. Sorry, friends. Thank you for getting me a Flintstones vitamin before I passed out face first into the fruitcake.

Anyway, yesterday was grand. Grand grand grand. I love the rock �n� roll, yo. Best night ever.

I just wish Angus would finish that fucking screenplay already. I am a charcter in it and I have my guts torn out while he has sex with me.

Great relationship, huh?