(reposted from y360 - March, 2006)
Gather close, friends and visitors, for I have yet another tale of what happens when a good wig goes a little wild…
I have to say that I’ve mostly outgrown the club scene. I haven’t been out in months, and I was okay with that. However, last Saturday was a pretty nice day (at least until the sun went down and the wind started howling, but I digress), and I got in touch with ChokolatCutie and my girl Angel and we decided to trip the light fantastic at a place named Martini’s in Ft. Washington, MD.
(okay, in light of my recent pratfalls maybe I should avoid the use of the word “trip” LOL). Back to the story.
As I’ve been doing on the weekends lately, I snatched on my thick, curly wig. The outfit was made complete with a skintight, zipfront Fubu denim jumpsuit. It’s all in the hips and ass, y’all, and I was damn sure playing show and tell. I finished off the look with a pair of reasonably-heeled mules, and a light makeup: Porn-star lip gloss and smoldering brown come-hither eyes. We set out for the spot, and so it began.
First of all, can I tell you that this place was wall to wall thick with BAMAS! All shapes, complexions and sizes. It’s notable though, that I ran into a couple of guys that had shown sparks of interest probably about six years ago (one of whom I kept in touch with, and the other I hadn’t seen in forever). I danced with my lunch buddy, and the other… well… never mind. He made an essential error and I can’t take him seriously, and that’s all I have to say about that.
I stood at the bar with my chicas in possession of a double Patron Silver, straight up, chilled. When I ordered it, I was thinking about how stingy most bars are with shots. Ha. Try again. I was handed a rocks glass that was just about full. It looked I was drinking water with a twist of lime. Sip, sip, sip, TeeJay. It took me most of the evening, but I finished it without incident and managed to remain in possession of my faculties. (Hey, I’m a professional).
We were having a good time, cracking jokes on folks and mingling/chatting… and then the slow records came on, and we made a bee-line for the bar. We’re all three on the edge of tipsy, but Chok was the only one with any sense to sit down. Angel and I were standing back to back, clowning and singing along. I leaned back, calling myself being cute… and then it happened.
The fucking wig slipped right off and hit the floor.
(Please take as long as you need to laugh.)
So… What did I do? I snatched that baby off the floor, shook it out, made sure there wasn’t anything in it, put it right back on, and went back to the partyin’, still in progress. Me and my girls had a REAL good giggle. I guess I was lucky it was after 1:00 am, because I think most of the folks in there were too drunk to notice what was going on.
I know I should put some track glue on that thing if I’m going to be more active than I would be at work, but when I get ready for it to come off, I’m ready and don’t want to worry about snatching out any of my own hair.
At any rate… it was funny. At least I thought so, and if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at??
I hope each and every one of you is having a good day.
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