Ah, a weekend with the rollergirls.
During SK808, I spent 19 straight hours in 6 inch heels. I ate nothing but peanut butter cups, french fries, and some taco filling. And then I went to Jack in the Box.
I felt lke hell afterwards. My stomach still hasn't forgiven me. So the next day, when I had to run through the mall and dive into a bathroom stall just in the nick of time, I knew what to expect. Or so I thought. What I didn't know was that my underwear was full of sequins. And when I pulled my pants down, a bunch of sequins fell on the floor and the toddler in the next stall bent over and looked to see where all of the shiny things were coming from.
THAT was unexpected.
Boy, did she get her answer.
But I am getting ahead of myself. My day lasted long past 8 o'clock, when SK808 ended. After all of that skating and bad food, I wanted to have some fun. We went to the afterparty. I was the designated driver.
I know! What were they thinking? But really, I am an excellent designated driver, as long as I don't forget that I am, indeed, designated. And as long as I can't convince someone ELSE to be the designated driver.
And as long as I don't drink any Jack Daniels. WHICH I DIDN'T. Which means that by 10pm I was sober, and wide awake, and bored.
Somehow, *I* was the one who came up with the idea of finding a strip club. Not that it took a lot of convincing to gather a posse and head out into the night. And what a posse it was.
We scared the parking lot attendants. You would think they had seen everything, but they had never seen 11 rollergirls in varying interpretations of "clothed", fresh from the afterparty, all stinking from a day of skating and eating crap and sitting in a dirty warehouse.
As in, there was a sign taped to the ground that said "Don't move this - there's shit under here".
As in, there was a 1/4 inch layer of some sort of abestos-laden dust covering everything.
As in, kids were playing in the porta-potties.
As in, I cleaned my ears this morning - 2 days and 3 showers later - and the washcloth was black.
So when one of the girls just lay down in the middle of the parking lot en route to the strip club, and another girl straddled her, and then all the other girls gathered around.......the parking lot attendants took pictures. They're on facebook.
And when we went inside, and one of the pole dancers sashayed out wearing my legwarmers, I had to check to make sure mine hadn't been removed. Which they hadn't - it was just a lucky coincidence that the naked woman rubbing herself 6 inches from my face was wearing matching legwarmers.
She was not amused when I proclaimed that we were practically twins. Except for the boob job. And the fact that she was 5 feet tall and asian. But whatever. Details.
But the matching legwarmers were truly the least remarkable thing about our merry little group. Let me tell you, 11 women in torn fishnets with helmet head and BO get a very mixed reception at a gentleman's club. But we are a very enthusiastic audience. It was like taking a bunch of kindergarteners to the circus. And giving them beers. And then showing them a bunch of different vaginas. With glitter. On poles.
Nevermind, bad analogy.
You know what I mean.
6 minutes ago