depressed karaoke is still karaoke
A week before we met, I got a text from my friend B, and I know these three things simultaneously: she is going to want me to come to something, I would rather die than leave my apartment, and once I go I will have fun. Truly. She is a person who makes plans, and I am a person who fantasizes ways to get out of plans. C and I drive the hour to this Korean place where we are meeting B, K, O, and his girlfriend M for fried chicken. B knows this place and knows what to order, and I trust her implicitly. We order two full chickens, cut into their respective pieces. We opt for the platter, which means each chicken comes with salad, gizzards, chips and salsa, and that mix of corn, mayonnaise, and cheese that honestly confuses me. I am on board with these sides. Sides are my favorite part of going out to eat. I eat a couple of bites of the gizzards and the corn salad because I want to like them. But I do not. The chicken is perfect . We all burn our fingers as we trade stories of post-gr...