Proof of what a lady I am.

I don’t mind pointing out my glaring humiliations to entertain others. Pete’s entry about the bonfire in the boondocks reminded me of one of my more public humiliations, one July 4th a few years ago.

When I still lived at my parents’ house, I used to throw this big party every July 4th. On one particular year, my friend Dante decided he was going to make this homemade Mexican wine. There’s a name for it, but I can’t remember it now. It should be called “stay the fuck away from this wine no matter what you do because you’ll only live to regret it later.” Anyhoo, this wine is way stronger than any wine I have ever tasted, but it’s so good, that you don’t realize when you’re drinking it that it’s as bad as it is.

Everything was fine in the beginning. I was hanging out, talking to everybody, drinking the wine.

Before it was even dark, I was hammered. After the fireworks, we all decided to head to the bar. It was at this point I probably should have stayed home and passed out, but common sense be damned, I went.

Mass amounts of alcohol+Andria=horny.

I could not keep my hands off of X at the bar. At my house, for some reason, I wasn’t paying so much attention, but when we got to that bar, I was all over him. He kept trying to calm me down, but I wasn’t backing down. I wanted to go in the bathroom, in the parking lot, upstairs to the apartment above the bar where my friend Darren lived, I just didn’t care. He kept turning me down.

Dante called me to the bar to do shots of Patron

Patron=Andria running off at the mouth.

I should not drink Patron. As much of a loud-mouth shit talker as I am sober, I am way worse when I have had tequila. In fact, for a while, the manager of the bar, Louie, who was one of my best friends, cut me off from it, and no one was allowed to buy me any.

There was one particular karaoke incident I was involved in after about three shots of Patron that will forever be talked about at that bar. But that’s another story for another time.

I was hanging out in the booth talking to the dj, Sean, and occasionally taking the mic and making fun of the whores on the dance floor - the girls grinding their asses into guys crotches as hard as they could, while feeling themselves up at the same time.

When I walked out of the booth, one of the whores threw her drink at me, but it didn’t get me. She was kicked out. I was warned.

Strike one.

I was still trying my best to get my boyfriend to violate me in some way, but, not being a “public display of affection” type of guy, he kept telling me no, that I could do whatever I wanted to him later. That meant nothing to me, since I knew I would likely be face down on my bedroom floor passed out later. So, Dick, being the horny pervy guy that he is, told me that if I was so horny, I should kiss Celestia. Guys will find any excuse to watch two chicks go at it. Celestia and I both laughed.

Well, I don’t have to tell you what happened next.

Lay off me. We were good friends at the time. I wasn’t burning with fire of white hot hatred then.

X laughed when Dick suggested it, but he didn’t find it so funny when I actually did it.

The only “drinks” I had at the bar were the two shots of tequila. I was so hammered off the wine, I couldn’t drink anything else. I was drinking water and diet coke all night. And I was still acting like a total jackass.

I decided the best way to get X in the mood would be to get all freaky on the dance floor (much like the girls I was ridiculing earlier).

Oh, yeah. I should point out that I can’t don’t dance. EVER. But, like Gloria Estefan says, the rhythm is gonna get you. I dragged him out to the dance floor, and started busting a move.

You know that episode of Seinfeld when Elaine dances at the Christmas party? Yeah, something like that.

Even I was laughing at myself.

Strike two.

Everything that happened after the dancing I only know because I have been told so many times (because my asshole friends love to bring this night up to remind me what a drunk whore I am).

Kay and I were in the bathroom, comparing notes, and Kay was telling me this story about Celestia. It was one the “Celestia the great big skank” stories that I hadn’t heard before. When I told Kay that I kissed her on a dare from Dick earlier, I made the joke to Kay that I better get checked out by a doctor the next day.

The toilet flushed, and Celestia came out of the stall. For some reason, she didn’t think it was funny. She was pissed.

She ran out and told Dick to take her home. When Kay told Dick what happened, he laughed (good supportive boyfriend that he was) and said (a phrase I’ve heard many times), “Fucking Andria. I can’t believe the shit she says.” They left.

Because I spent so much time at this bar, and was very good friends with the manager/owner’s daughter, I knew a lot of stuff that was going on at the bar. The reason I will never, ever marry a cop is because of my time at this bar. A lot of cops hung out there, and every single one of them cheated on their wives. They would bring their wives in on Friday, and would hang out with their girlfriends during the week.

One cop’s wife was there, and Kay and I were talking to her at the bar. We were chit chatting about her husband’s work, and I said, “I could never marry a cop. I mean, besides worrying about their safety, they all fucking cheat on their wives.” Kay kicked me under the bar pretty hard, and she laughed and said some joke about me always being a smartass.

My foot has spent a large amount of time in my mouth.

At closing, everyone left. Louie told me X and I could hang out and have some drinks with her and her boyfriend Pat, and she would give us a ride home. Everyone cleared out, and Louie went upstairs with Pat to count out.

I knew this took about 40 minutes.

Finally, being alone with X, I started kissing him, and touching him. I finally got a response out of him, and we started making out (best.thing.ever.).

I won’t go into too much detail, but some stuff happened, and a good time was had.

I got X a beer and poured myself a diet coke. When Louie and Pat came downstairs, she sat next to me and said, “Andria, you know there’s a security camera in this bar, right?”

Strike fucking three. I’m out.

It took about 6 seconds for that story to circulate. I can’t blame Louie. I would have ratted her ass out, too.

That was almost ten years ago, and every fucking July 4th, Kay still tells that story.