October 27, 2002 | 2:01 PM

Well it�s 10:35 in the morning and I still haven�t gone to bed yet. I�m a tad strung out and more than a little drunk. Thus, perfect moment for a diary entry, of course!

So lemmee tell you about yesterday.

As Saturday afternoon bled into twilight I was all ready to sink into a comfortable Poor Me Despair. I�d spent the day alternately napping (during which I was accosted by horrible dreams), and sobbing uncontrollably to the beat of my sad sack Smiths albums. The phone did not ring once, nor did the buzzer go off. I was confronted with loneliness and a sense of futility. I pouted and felt sorry for myself. Nobody loved me, I thought. And what a waste of a weekend. As the sky grew dark I accepted my fate�tonight would be an eating-ice-cream-alone-and-feeling-like-a-loser holiday extravaganza. There was no avoiding it. Might as well embrace my patheticness and celebrate it whole-heartedly.

By 8:00 PM I had all the props ready�my plaid flannel nightgown, two Special Dark Hershey bars, a well warn patchwork quilt, girly DVD�s ( Brigette Jones� Diary and Say Anything), Tori Amos records, slipper socks, a bottle of Chardonnay, Anne Sexton�s collected works, and a boy to fixate on and cry over. I had come to terms with my own lameness and was settling in to a good boo-hoo-hoo-ing, when suddenly the doorbell rang.

Up the stairs of my building bounded Debbie and Josh, all smiles and invitations.

We�re going to go karaokeing. Do you wanna come?

I hesitated. I mean, I�d worked so hard to get everything just right for my maudlin self torture fiesta. To abandon it at this stage of the game felt wrong�like I was a quitter. But then I looked at Josh and I looked at Debbie. And my heart filled with love. Who was I to deny them my company at karaoke? The Pity Fest could wait. Karaoke beckoned.

I looked like shit and smelled worse, so I left Debbie and Josh to amuse themselves in my living room while I took a shower. Josh had the good sense to put on Van Morrison�s Moondance Album which lightened my countenance greatly.

After my shower, the three of us hung out and listened to good old Van for a bit. We smoked some stogies and discussed world events before taking off in Debbie�s car.

Our destination was the Pearl Street, which I had heard a great deal about, and which had figured largely into the Josh/Jonny/Ross/Debbie/Tara/Kelly/Rich et al mythology. I had never been there and honestly wasn�t expecting a whole lot. I figured it would be some townie hole in the wall, imbued with sentimentality due to it being around the corner from where the gang used to live, its magic existing solely in that specific context, and thus firmly out of my grasp as I lacked any frame of reference.

Boy was I in for a wonderful shock.

.

When we arrived, the joint was packed. Many people were wearing Halloween costumes and the atmosphere was lively. The ceilings were high and the floor was hardwood. The place was furnished with Easy-chairs, barca-loungers, and living room tables. Flames leaped frenetically in the fireplace, and a construction worker type guy was karaoking his heart out to Elvis Costello. Best of all, a gigantic hologram poster of Billy Holiday loomed over the proceedings. I fell head over heels in love with The Pearl Street instantaneously.

Deb ran into some people she knew who were just about to leave and they gave us their table. Josh, Debbie, and I settled effortlessly into comfy chairs and even comfier drinks and looked through the songbook. Deb is shy and doesn�t like to sing in public, but Josh and I are hams. We each picked out a few songs tout suite and handed our selections to the maestro.

Josh got called up right away and did a rousing rendition of �Moondance�. Many forty-something couples filled the dance floor and cheeked-to-cheeked it while he crooned soulfully. He brought the audience to its feet. Josh, I swear to god, has Wilson Picket�s ghost living in his vocal chords.

I was called up almost immediately after. I found myself nervous and apprehensive, which is strange for me. I almost wanted to tell the master of ceremonies, �Um never mind. Move along, there�s nothing to see here.� But I swallowed my nerves and went on with the show.

I sang �Voices Carry� the lyrics of which were pretty appropriate to how I was feeling. The whole time I sang I felt tight and uninspired and kept thinking to myself, �God I am fucking sucking ass right now�how embarrassing.�

But when it was over, to my surprise, I got a standing ovation, and the Karaoke Mistress whispered in my ear, �Wow�you have one of the best voices I�ve ever heard.� I blushed. That made me feel good.

I went back to our table and Josh and Debbie and I drank and drank and enjoyed the karaoke show, which was actually incredibly entertaining. From my experience, karaoke is usually a bunch of drunk frat kids singing �Sweet Home Alabama� or some such nonsense, and most of the fun of it is laughing at them and waiting with baited breath for your own turn at the mic. But at the Pearl Street, almost everyone who performed was awesome.

One chic in a Wonder Woman costume did a fearless and rousing rendition of �Girl You Know It�s True� by Milli Vanilli, complete with choreography and 100% earnestness. It was truly awe inspiring.

Shortly thereafter, an old man with a thick Malden accent sang �Total Eclipse of the Heart�, and I have to say that I am honored to have been witness to that performance. He was so fucking sincere, like he meant every word. He was all rumpled and bent over but he had this powerhouse voice and enthusiasm. It fucking touched me, you know? That this guy, who is in real life probably like a postal clerk or something, was able to get up and without any irony at all present this psychodrama to the audience. I mean, that guy was method acting, man. He was Brando and he was Sinatra and he was Mel Torme all rolled into one. He fucking felt it, you know?

During a break, the karaoke mistress came over to our table and invited Josh and I to participate in this karaoke contest where you can win a trip to Vegas or a cruise. She flattered the shit out of both of us and told us how fantastic we were, blah blah blah. Gave us free drink coupons and told us to come to some karaoke joint in fucking Saugus of all places to enter the quarter finals on Wednesday. After she left, Josh and I commiserated over the dream of being career karaokisists�just going from town to town and winning enough money to survive on. Buying a mobile home and supporting ourselves by singing our little hearts out. It�s just a pipe dream, and a silly trashy one at that, but doesn�t it sound lovely?

Me, Debbie, and Josh continued to drink voraciously throughout the evening. Eventually, Josh was called back up to perform again. He sang �Dim The Lights�, and it was just fucking phenomenal. I have never seen a white boy with so much soul. I mean, he takes my very breath away, Josh does. He can be so cerebral and aloof and yet he can fucking get up there and wail and it�s so emotional and immediate and real. God I love that kid. He brought the house down.

Shortly thereafter it was my turn. I sang �Crazy� by Patsy Cline. And I really threw myself into it. The dance floor filled up with couples and I tried my damndest to channel the tortured spirit of Miss Patsy. When I was done, I felt like I committed an act of hubris, and was really ashamed and insecure. Even though I got lots of applause I felt bad. I mean, nobody can do fucking Patsy�what was I thinking? But when I sat back down Josh assuaged my fears and I felt less silly. And then this man came up to our table and asked me to dance.

I was flustered and didn�t really want to, but of course I accepted. On the dance floor he held me real tight and he was so nice. He said,

Gosh you�ve got such a pretty voice. I�ve never heard anyone except maybe Linda Ronstadt with a voice as pretty as yours.

I blushed and stammered and thanked him for his kindness.

Am I being too forward? I don�t want to make you uncomfortable.

I assured him he wasn�t.

And if you don�t mind my saying you�re real pretty too.

At this point, being drunk and not used to such compliments, I laughed rudely and said,

Are you out of your mind?

The man looked hurt.

Whaddaya mean? I think you�re real pretty. Hey, do you have a boyfriend?

I shook my head no.

Playing the field then, huh? Five or six boyfriends?

I snorted unbecomingly and said,

Um, no. I don�t have any boyfriends.

The man held me tighter and stated emphatically,

What the hell is wrong with these young kids? Beautiful girl like you. Beautiful sweet voice. No boyfriend? Honey, if I was twenty five I�d sweep you up just like that.

He paused mid dance and snapped his fingers to accentuate his point. I giggled and tossed my hair. I figured he must be really drunk. I mean, vain girl that I am I know what my assets are. I have a lovely face and nice hair. I have nice breasts. But I am pasty and doughy and really, men don�t like me. They honestly don�t. I mean sure, as a pal they do. But nobody calls me �beautiful�. Nobody calls me �sweet.�. I felt like I�d wandered into an MGM musical circa 1955.

After the dance was over, the man kissed my cheek and both my palms and he gave me his hat. It was a sweet gesture. I went back to my table and ordered another glass of wine.

The next performer was the man who�d done �Total Eclipse of the Heart� so beautifully earlier that evening. Before he began his song, he pointed to me and said,

This one is dedicated to you, my dear.

I almost melted.

If that wasn�t enough, during the song another man came up to me, introduced himself and asked for my phone number(!!!) These things never happen to me. I mean never ever. I kept wanting to stand up and clear my throat and say,

Um� excuse me� in case you�ve all forgotten, I�m really not at all good looking so please kindly return to your regularly scheduled duties.

Was there something in the air or some kind of spell cast? I just have no idea how all of a sudden, fat unattractive me commanded so much attention.

At this point it was like 1:30 in the morning. Josh got called up again and did an uninhibited, erotically charged version of Jailhouse Rock. I mean, it was just incredible. That kid whigs the shit out of me, I swear to god. He can be so removed and intellectualize everything and come across (without meaning to) as judgmental and esoteric. But he has such soul and so much joy and it�s just beautiful to watch when he has the opportunity to display it. As a performer, he shines though. I mean, it just stuffs my heart all full of candy and valentines to see him peel back all those defensive layers and really pour his soul out. It�s beautiful. Really fucking beautiful.

After Josh went, I got called up again

At this point I was drunk and unconcerned with egocentricity. I sang �Superstar� by the Carpenters. And I got so into it. And while I was singing it, I knew I was mesmerizing. That I was hitting it just right. I felt so good about it and that�s the best feeling�to be performing and know you�re doing a piece justice.

Sure enough, afterwards, two more men came over and gave me their numbers. One pulled up his chair next to me and struck up a (very interesting, actually) conversation about Prince as an example of what happens to pop stars when they start listening to their own entourages and disavow their original creative impulse.

This guy, this smart, Lester Bangs reading guy, kept touching his hand to my knee.

I felt, in a ridiculous, silly, small town way, like a big fucking star.

Josh, Debbie, and I closed the place down. When there were no more drinks and no more karaoke to be had, the three of us went back to my house. We ate chocolate bars dipped in peanut butter, drank wine, and listened to the god damned fucking Carpenters.

Oh�before I forget. I just have to say that Debbie is amazing. I spoke to her the previous night on the phone real fucking late, when we were both trashed and I was really, really upset, and she gave me the best advice and made me feel so much better. She is such a kind, supportive person, and being around her and Josh is wonderful because you can tell that despite whatever normal �couple� problems they might deal with, they really and truly love one another and are committed to their relationship. And Jesus they really are both fun.

Anyway, the three of us hung out for awhile and then eventually Josh and Debbie had to go. I was so wound up that I just danced around and listened to records for a billion years and then found myself writing this diary entry. OK I�m starting to crash hardcore now, and I�m basically at the end of my story so, TA DA--

Hope your weekend was also lovely,

Anna