The next thing you knew, she'd robbed a bank and ran off to Vegas
It's gonna be a wild, non-stop forty eight hours of hard core craziness, starting tommrrow at 6, when every feminist in the city will show up at my doorstep.
Pasta, Pellegrino, and world domination. (Or equality, whichever way you want to put it!) Then, it's the celebration of the finale of this years' Vagina Monologues, aka the Thank God/dess It's Over! But Didn't We Have Fun? party. We'll be at Ham's, and we'll be the screaming, sultry, sexy vixens at the big round table who are constantly calling the waiter for another glass of gin and tonic, and who bring bottles of wine, because Ham's wine list is non-existent.
We'll also be the cat-eyed, crimson mouthed, curved smiling chicks who aren't afraid to say the word "VAGINA". Loudy, and on non-stop constant repeat. "Bob", "Vagina Motherfuckers", "It is ILLEGAL to sell vibrators in the following states:", and "I was in the room, and I remember" will also make cameo appearances, mostly likely backed up by the giddy, crazy exuberance that is what you get when you put fifteen wild, feminist, not-taking-shit film noir and designer-label wearing dames in a room!
We'll paint our lips scarlet. We'll purr at the waiters. We'll say the name of our own genitalia, OUT LOUD, for the whole world to hear. And honey, that's just Friday.
On Saturday, Ashley, Dana, Val and I will stuff ourselves into a cute little Camry and go on a road trip to the Mind, Body, Spirit Expo up in Raleigh. We'll buy crescant moon necklaces and get our chi examined, compare our own spirituality, and the worth of ourselves as women. I'll be wearing any one of my sexy little forties dresses, so just look for the brunette in Nine West Jostle ivory pumps and a pretty little understated vintage clutch, chattering with three fierce, outrageous babes, one of which will look like a 1950s bombshell.
After the Expo, Dana and I are dressing up in little black wriggle dresses and putting on our highest heels and our reddest lipsticks and going out for a night on the town! It's Valentine's Day, and nothing could be cuter than fooling a waiter into thinking we're lesbians. After all, no one can say no to comped bottles of champagne, and I don't intend to try! We'll drink, and dance, and giggle for hours until it's way too dark to see.
And then I'll come home and peel off my little black dress and gorgeous chocolate Victoria's Secrets bra that I'm saving for a night just like this. And I'll call you, in my flesh thigh high stockings and my pretty matching thong and garter belt. And we'll talk. For hours and hours, and we'll be together in sounds and voices and gentle words, since we're not going to be in the same state, hell, or even the same time zone.
It's gonna be one crazy weekend, so crazy I won't even have time to hold up a Starbucks for my caffeine addiction. I guess I'll have to do it all on adrenaline alone--adrenaline and this bright, glorious feeling that I love.
Pasta, Pellegrino, and world domination. (Or equality, whichever way you want to put it!) Then, it's the celebration of the finale of this years' Vagina Monologues, aka the Thank God/dess It's Over! But Didn't We Have Fun? party. We'll be at Ham's, and we'll be the screaming, sultry, sexy vixens at the big round table who are constantly calling the waiter for another glass of gin and tonic, and who bring bottles of wine, because Ham's wine list is non-existent.
We'll also be the cat-eyed, crimson mouthed, curved smiling chicks who aren't afraid to say the word "VAGINA". Loudy, and on non-stop constant repeat. "Bob", "Vagina Motherfuckers", "It is ILLEGAL to sell vibrators in the following states:", and "I was in the room, and I remember" will also make cameo appearances, mostly likely backed up by the giddy, crazy exuberance that is what you get when you put fifteen wild, feminist, not-taking-shit film noir and designer-label wearing dames in a room!
We'll paint our lips scarlet. We'll purr at the waiters. We'll say the name of our own genitalia, OUT LOUD, for the whole world to hear. And honey, that's just Friday.
On Saturday, Ashley, Dana, Val and I will stuff ourselves into a cute little Camry and go on a road trip to the Mind, Body, Spirit Expo up in Raleigh. We'll buy crescant moon necklaces and get our chi examined, compare our own spirituality, and the worth of ourselves as women. I'll be wearing any one of my sexy little forties dresses, so just look for the brunette in Nine West Jostle ivory pumps and a pretty little understated vintage clutch, chattering with three fierce, outrageous babes, one of which will look like a 1950s bombshell.
After the Expo, Dana and I are dressing up in little black wriggle dresses and putting on our highest heels and our reddest lipsticks and going out for a night on the town! It's Valentine's Day, and nothing could be cuter than fooling a waiter into thinking we're lesbians. After all, no one can say no to comped bottles of champagne, and I don't intend to try! We'll drink, and dance, and giggle for hours until it's way too dark to see.
And then I'll come home and peel off my little black dress and gorgeous chocolate Victoria's Secrets bra that I'm saving for a night just like this. And I'll call you, in my flesh thigh high stockings and my pretty matching thong and garter belt. And we'll talk. For hours and hours, and we'll be together in sounds and voices and gentle words, since we're not going to be in the same state, hell, or even the same time zone.
It's gonna be one crazy weekend, so crazy I won't even have time to hold up a Starbucks for my caffeine addiction. I guess I'll have to do it all on adrenaline alone--adrenaline and this bright, glorious feeling that I love.