I turned the big 3-0 last year. I’m one of those obnoxious people who likes to celebrate her birthday. Honestly, it’s not all about me, me, me. I just like having an excuse to celebrate something. Whether it’s my birthday, your birthday, Jesus’ birthday – I want to drink and dance and take part in some sort of revelry!
I decided to do a joint celebration with a friend whose birthday is a few weeks before mine. We chose a nearby bar in Wrigleyville and rented out the top floor for an “all you can drink” three-hour party. Unfortunately, there was a crazy snowstorm that night, so we didn’t have as many guests as we had originally anticipated.
We had a good group of people, though, and the drinks were obviously flowing. Prior to the bar party I had dinner with my family, so had started the night off with my lips attached to a bottle of Pinot Noir. Thankfully my parents left before things got too rowdy. Once the dry humping began, that was their cue to leave!
Like many a birthday celebration before, memory started to fade. From what I was told I was just chock full of love at being in a room with my closest friends and family. Lots of hugging and kissing, quite possibly a few tears.
Right around midnight the bar people closed up the room and requested we all go downstairs to the main bar area. The bar was not at all crowded due to the inclement weather, but the DJ was still pumping out tunes and the drinks were still flowing.
I’m not sure how or why I chose to do what I will describe to you now. After three hours of unlimited drinking, I have a sneaking suspicion it was the Captain making the decisions, not me.
I crept up behind the seated DJ, lifted up my dress like a Can-Can dancer and brought it down right over his head and torso. Apparently he stiffened like a board (no pun intended), not sure what was going on.
Attack of the drunken whore!!!
My friend ran over to help disentangle him from my dress as I laughed hysterically and ran away.
The DJ apparently was none too pleased.
Um, DJ? Yeah, hi. This is Leigh’s vagina here. Leigh just willingly put your face very close to me. Willingly. Remember that. It’s not every day that your face can get this close to greatness without at least buying Leigh a drink or ten first. Happy birthday to YOU, sir.
In my drunken state, I recognized this was a real party trick and opted to pull this same stunt on several unsuspecting victims throughout the remainder of the night. At least the other few victims were my friends.
So, in summary, I celebrated my 30th birthday by lifting my dress over and onto people’s unsuspecting heads/bodies.
Wow. I really have matured in my old age, haven’t I?
Moral of the Story:
If I’m wearing a dress and I’m holding a drink and you don’t want to see my crotch, then you should probably leave the party.
Sidenote: I almost ALWAYS wear dresses and skirts (my bits need to breathe!)…and I rarely turn down a drink.
Leigh: “Vagina, have you met the back of this unsuspecting stranger’s head?”
Vagina: “Why no, Leigh, I have not. Please introduce me!”