Girls Night Out

We are in the planning stages of another alter ego night.  This one is highly anticipated, because it will be on the weekend and my strict instructions to this month’s planner were: “I need to dance and cut loose in a big way!”  It’s so hard to get all these VIPs together in one room.    You know, the muthas are very powerful, and we are even in awe of our own power.  Last month, we went to a local dive bar where a fairly famous musician was playing.  We are truly blessed, in this city, to have awesome music and food on demand 24/7.  We are not talking about regular food and music either.  We are talking about the fact that our ‘just regular’ places have food and music that rivals everywhere else’s ‘awesome places’.  Anyway, I arrived late on account of the poo bubbling up from my shower and tub…if you remember, I had the hot plumber hostage at my house.  The muthas told me when I got there that the ‘famous musician’ had already approached a particular mutha, and said, “Don’t I know you?”  to which she batted her pretty li’l eyelashes and responded, “You could know me.”  She was being serious.  Mmm-kay…are you digging the awesomeness?  Me too.  So the night goes on, there is drinking and cackling and this particular mutha leaves first.  The remaining muthas then decide to write a note on a napkin that says:  “Name of famous musician: You could know me and then phone number of the cute, newly divorced mutha”.   It was just a joke, only we forget whilst drinking exactly how powerful we are, and said joke was left for famous musician.  And guess what?  You already know what, because we control the universe.  Famous musician texts cute mutha THREE TIMES the next day.  Unfortunately, this story did not end with a fabulous patio party at my house where famous musician serenaded us with his sexy voice all night long, as we had planned.  No, instead we found out famous musician is married, so, because we are so awesome, we don’t think he is as cool because now we know he’s a cheater.  Here’s a little info for the manly men:  cheating is not sexy.  We are not fans of it in any way, shape or form.  In fact, if you cheat on one of the muthas, the rest of us will bring you great cosmic harm, so please do not fuck with us in any way, ever.

I received an email yesterday that some of the co-authors of Chicken Soup For the Soul are gathering contributions for a more modern version of Soup.  She asked if I would submit my blog post from yesterday.  The new anthology is called Not Your Mother’s Book, and like Chicken Soup, will branch off into other sub-categories.  I submitted a couple entries last night, but got sidetracked when I noticed that one is slated to be called “Girls Night Out”.  So I quickly submitted this, as it’s one of my favorite ‘going out’ stories of all time.  The setting is Club LaVela, arguably the largest nightclub in all of the south.  It’s in Panama City Beach, FL, where I lived for about 10 years when I was 20 something.  Most people in the South know this club.  We knew it a little bit too well because we lived on the Beach.  It was always full of beautiful people.  I was there with my best friend one night and we were just hanging out.  Before we left to go out to the club, she had changed her shirt like 10 times.  She couldn’t get comfortable.  Late into the night, it was getting hotter in the club, and truly the night had been pretty innocent until this point.  All of a sudden I look at her, and she is taking off her shirt!! What the FUCK??!! She is now sitting across from me in her bra?  Girl, what the fuck are you doing?  Innocent eyes looking back at me…she’s not understanding my surprise.  Simultaneously, guys from every direction are tapping their buddies and rushing towards us like she’s about to get totally naked or something.  I was not sure at this moment she wasn’t.  I was confused.  I had to shout above the music, “Why did you take off your shirt?”  She responds only, “I was hot!”  Further confusion.  A few seconds go by.  So then I say, “You’re in your bra!”  At first she didn’t even get what I was saying.  She thought she had two shirts on.  She wasn’t wearing what she thought she was wearing.  She looks down at her boobs, and just starts laughing.  Hysterically.  We all are.  My friend is one cool mutha.  She was not embarrassed in the least, which is why she’s my friend.  We probably spent the rest of the night teasing the guys that she would do it again. 

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