I still got the Nasty in Me

In order to properly appreciate this post, you will need the right music. You're welcome.

Last night yours truly went out and made a night of it. It was Dede's birthday, and a celebration of the first order had been planned. We started in a hotel room full of half naked women swapping fishnets and hairspray, drinking a bottle of tequila (I think) and ended with a huge security woman talking into her sleeve as we walked from bar to bar in "The Triangle":
"I've got your group here" she said, sizing us up as we strutted by in stilettos and dresses that - by design - barely covered our asses and left nothing to the imagination. Keep in mind that most of us are married adults, with children. But not last night, oh no. Husbands and children were not part of the equation. Neither was underwear, and bras were a non-option for about 50% of the outfits we were parading around in.

So we glared at her, ignored all of the 5 foot tall Men in Hoodies that were standing around hiking up their pants and adjusting their carefully positioned "Hustler" baseball caps, and continued on our slow and deliberate way towards the thumping music spilling out into the alley. With our hair appropriately "bumped" our glitter applied liberally and our hair bows firmly in place, we were channeling our inner B-52.

With all of that to offer, you might be surprised to hear that the real spectacle came when we tried to drive anywhere. As the designated driver, I had brought the SUV, with it's 3 rows of seats. But even with all of that room, the 11 of us still had a challenge fitting into the car.

We managed, mind you. But there was some confusion, a lot of ass grabbing, and then someone said "Shit, you made me spill champagne all over myself."

So it turns out, not only was I driving 11 people in a 7 passenger vehicle - which made the seatbelts (with their damned pointy buckles) more of a nuisance then a safety feature - I also had an open container in there....somewhere. I would have challenged any cop to try to find it though. These girls are wily. They have had years of practice, and can smuggle anything from a contraband sippy cup to a 4 year old who hasn't paid admission. Stashing a bottle of champagne was no big deal for this crew. But safety first, I always say. When we drove from bar to bar, I was extremely cautious. MY seatbelt was buckled, we drove on the local road with a 20 MPH speed limit, and everyone had to keep all body parts INSIDE THE VEHICLE, keeping in mind that the closest emergency exit may be behind them. When we pulled into a parking spot, the exit involved careful, strategic planning. You cannot just throw open a door with 3 half naked girls in your lap, and expect everyone to climb out safely. Here's how it would go:

I would pull into a spot.
Someone would immediately try to climb out the tailgate window, and I would yell at them (while rolling up the window from the button on the dashboard) to not draw attention to the highly illegal number of passengers in my car. The person climbing out the rear window (I'm looking at you, Bakey) would have the rear window rolled up into her crotch while she stradded the tailgate. I would roll the window back down, and she would climb/fall out of the back of the car losing at least one stilletto and probably dumping the contents of her purse on the ground (though that might have been someone else) BUT NOT SPILLING HER BEER THANKYOUVERYMUCH while I threatened everyone else to STAY SEATED and REMAIN CALM.

I had to remind them to remain calm because they were panicking. They were panicking because the rear doors have child locks, and cannot be opened from the inside.

Ha HAH !

So with the tailgate closed and Bakey pulling her bathing suit out of her crotch and rearranging her sheer gold dress and polishing off that beer, I would walk around the car opening doors and keeping people from falling out backwards onto their asses in the middle of the parking lot. Each girl would grab the front of her skirt, hold it down to cover her business, scootch over to the edge of the seat and then carefully climb out, with one arm across her chest to keep her tits in. After I was sure everyone was out of the car, we'd do a quick head count and then saunter towards the nearest purveyor of alcoholic beverages.

The entire operation was reversed when we decided to change locations. But when relocating, the head count is two fold - you had to be able to REMEMBER how many girls you were supposed to have, then try to count them as they were hopping all over the place straightening stockings and adjusting their boobs and handing out gum. At one point, I kept insisting that we STAY and WAIT because one of the girls was in the bathroom. The entire group left the bar while I protested and tried to finish her drink. I hate waste.

Once out of the bar, they all started trooping back towards the car, while I sort of jumped up in the air every few steps and said "But Wait !" "Um, I think we are missing someone!" "Isn't there someone in the bathroom?" Until she finally came marching around the corner and I pointed and said triumphantly "SEE ! There she is ! I TOLD you we were missing someone." And as they all laughed about how they would have left her behind, I assured them that my role as designated driver also included making sure NO ONE was left behind.

Eventually, however, I had to leave them ALL behind. They were dead set on closing down the final bar of the evening, and I still had an hour of driving left ahead of me, so by 1:30 I was in my car - this time followed closely by 2 cops and several security guards, making sure I was not planning on re-loading a dozen people into my car because they were having NONE OF THAT.

Sometime around 2:30am, I made it home. I put the carseat back in the car, pulled out the random pair of fishnets and an empty bottle stashed under the back seat, gathered up my glitter and lipliner, and headed inside through the rain. I took down the hair bump, kicked the stilettos under the bed, peeled off the stockings, washed my face and climbed into bed with my husband. No matter how much fun it is to be out with the girls, my favorite place is always going to be home with that guy.

Happy Birthday Dede - let's do that again sometime ;)