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The year before last, apparently funds were of plenty as I did in fact purchase one of those sleazy warehouse costumes. The worst of it being that I have an entire Rubbermaid of costumes. So, I dressed up as a cheerleader. Insert cringe here. What the spirit of rebellion against a crazy principal and the church ladies she works with will make a level headed gal do!
I went out with a group of ladies (who enjoyed a similarly reckless fall of 2007) to an uppity downtown club. The thought of it now makes me desperately want a nap. Toward the evening's close, with a 7am staff devotional awaiting this cheerleader, someone knew someone who knew the owner of the fine establishment. Before I knew it we were approaching the pent house sweet of the swanky hotel/club. My initial thought consisted of 4 words, "OUT OF MY LEAGUE!" Okay and one other thought, "We're definitely not at the Naz anymore!" Seriously, what was I doing there? It was almost comical. The very open, open bar was manned by pretty much not dressed women. Nothing creeps me more out than a VRB (Vodka Red Bull, party girl slang) being served to me by someone without a blouse on! And I don't even like vodka...or Red Bull.
Two of us made a mad dash to the bathroom, me and a pirate friend (never goes out of style), mostly to dish about the insane environment we were currently in. The penthouse sweet lacked a 1/2 bathroom in the living room. How does an architect include stripper poles, but forget the simplicity of a powder room for guests? So, it was necessary to venture through one of the bedrooms to get to the facilities. On our way, the pirate and I found ourselves at a standstill in the middle of a creepy bedroom. Personally I was much more confused than she, the girl ventures from Las Vegas, she's seen it all. I on the other hand...well, have not. After a second and a half we realized the owner of Swankville and a woman dressed as Wonder Woman were doing a line of COKE off of the expensive armoire. Not coke like what my mom refers to as "soda pop" and not the kind of line I made my Kindergarteners stand in earlier that afternoon. Like real, hard core, cocaine. Depressed, I whisper, "Wonder woman, is that you?" No wonder she runs so fast.
Two of us made a mad dash to the bathroom, me and a pirate friend (never goes out of style), mostly to dish about the insane environment we were currently in. The penthouse sweet lacked a 1/2 bathroom in the living room. How does an architect include stripper poles, but forget the simplicity of a powder room for guests? So, it was necessary to venture through one of the bedrooms to get to the facilities. On our way, the pirate and I found ourselves at a standstill in the middle of a creepy bedroom. Personally I was much more confused than she, the girl ventures from Las Vegas, she's seen it all. I on the other hand...well, have not. After a second and a half we realized the owner of Swankville and a woman dressed as Wonder Woman were doing a line of COKE off of the expensive armoire. Not coke like what my mom refers to as "soda pop" and not the kind of line I made my Kindergarteners stand in earlier that afternoon. Like real, hard core, cocaine. Depressed, I whisper, "Wonder woman, is that you?" No wonder she runs so fast.
I lost more than my naivety that Halloween, I lost a hero! I can never look at the homemade red, white and blue cape living in my costume box the same (Yes I own a Wonder Woman costume). What a shame, I had only just made it months before out of an old jazz ditty from a 911 tribute dance performance and some sequins.
I'm shaking my head in disappointment right now. And you should be as well.
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