As I got home with two blowup dolls in hand, I got a call from one of my best friends "Darla." Darla is quite opposite from me. Actually all my friends are. Darla always tells me that she wouldn't experience half the shit she does if I wasn't involved. I should take this as a compliment, but 98 percent of the time in life she's shaking her head at me when we're in public. I'm not the embarrassing friend. I'm just the friend who doesn't give a shit and seeks fun out of every situation you put in front of her. I mean who can find fun in a private religious school, where you sit in cubicles every day and have to wear a uniform? Apparently I can. I had detention almost every day. Nuns are lame and have no sense of humor. <---At least that was my excuse to the principal one time. Would you believe that resulted in another detention. My mother was less than pleased with me. But, that's another story...Anywayyysss, I pick up my phone and it was Darla. She asked me what I was planning on wearing that night.
Me: "That's not important right now. I need to find one of those air pumps."
Darla: "Why?"
Me: "I bought two blowup dolls for tonight."
Darla: "What?! You're going to look ridiculous holding them in bars. You know we're having a scavenger hunt, right? I AM NOT CARRYING ONE OF THOSE AROUND."
Me: "Yeah, okay whatever. I need a air pump and some vodka..."
Darla: "Why do I have a feeling this night is going to go bad."
Me: "You're such a negative Nancy. I'll see you later."
...I didn't want to tell Darla I agreed with her, but I did. I always get strange feelings before a potential blog night happens. And my stomach was doing twists and turns as I was getting ready.
So, after everything was done: My hair was done, my outfit was picked, the air pump was borrowed, the dolls were blown up. I was ready to rock and roll and then my mother came knocking on my door...
Of course she wanted to see me before I went out. God love her. There she was with a smile on her face, a camera in one hand and a cake in the other. I'm pretty sure she's out of hand with a camera in life as much as an Asian is at Niagara Falls.
She sat the cake on my kitchen table and looked at me and sighed.
I wish I could say it was a sigh of magic. You know what I'm talking about, the kind of sigh that Cinderella made whenever she felt something magical around her.
No, this sigh meant: I hate my daughter's boobs and I wish she would put them away.
"Yeah, I know mom. Awesome boobs, right?"
Sigh again. "Honey, don't you think you could put on that sweater I got you the other week?"
"Yeah, I plan on impersonating Julie Andrews from the Sound of Music tomorrow. I'll wear it then."
Sigh again. "Oh, twenty five years old. My little girl is twenty five years old. Where has the time gone?"
"Yeah. Hey, Ma. Can you help me think of a name for my dolls?"
"Did Darla get you a cute barbie doll? Well, you could name her Sandy or Missy or...What the hell are those?"
And I showed her the dolls.Now, I don't know if you've ever bought a blowup doll, but they're naked. I didn't know that and I was too lazy to look for clothes for them. So there I was holding a tiny female blowup doll who had a tiny opening as a vagina and a tiny male blowup doll with an itty bitty pecker.
She just stared at them with her mouth open. I didn't know what to say to her, so I just waved the pecker in her face to lighten the mood and told her I could put my beer in the girl's vagina if I have nowhere to put it . It would be like a coaster. She continued to stare. At that moment I decided to name the girl Tiny Teena Turner and Mister Tidbits for the guy. At that moment, as she was watching me drink vodka and prance around with the dolls in my living room, she probably felt she failed as a parent in raising me.
After many bribes of money to me and promising she won't make another comment about one of my outfits again if I left the dolls at home, I finally told her that it was about time for my other best friend "Mark" to pick me and the others up for my outing. I gave her a smooch and promised I wouldn't embarrass the family name.
Yeah...
As I heard the door bell ring, I ran to get the door to let Mark in. There he was: Cute as a button, Tall as a basket ball player, nice as anything, and I didn't feel one ounce of anything but friend love for him. The sexual feeling I felt for Mark is the same I have for a lamp. Nothing. Which was perfect, because it was mutual on his end as well.
As I looked at him, he had the biggest grin on his face and asked if I was ready for any interesting night ahead. Of course I was, but FIRST I had to do another vodka shot...which then turned into 4 more shots, which then turned into me wanting to bounce on my bed to Bruce Springsteen, which then turned into Mark carrying me and the dolls to his truck.
I was plastered before I got to the bar. I'm a frickin light weight when it comes to liquor.
There I was in Mark's truck: Dancing to the Spice Girls on the radio, having my feet on the dashboard, putting Mister Tidbit's ass out the window mooning people and ready to concur the frickin world.
The world should have been afraid for what was to come...
But, first we had to figure out why we were getting pulled over by a cop.
To be continued...
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