Many months ago, my lovely friend Delightfulness invited me to a party that at the time was to be held at a To Be Determined date. Her boyfriend’s wakeboarding group holds annual Video Premier Parties, and she wished for someone to help keep her entertained while he frolicked drunkenly with his mates. I quickly agreed, as any chance to dress up and hang with a like-minded pal is never to be passed up. After getting all fabulated last night, (as in, dolling ourselves up fabulously) we made our way to Uptown Minneapolis.
There is something to be said of Uptown. Surely, it is over-populated with hipsters and other wanna-be uniquees. But who cannot be awed by the beautiful old buildings that don every corner, and the many businesses trying to be different from all the others? We arrived to the bar where the party was getting started after driving around trying to figure out how to get there because the normal roads were blocked off for the annual Art Fair. Before we stepped into the specially-reserved Messanine Room, I was pleased to have my extensive cleavage ogled by a man with a Heinekin and a wife in the elevator.
Upon entering the “super-special M room”, my friend and I plopped down quite lady-like in the overstuffed leather chairs that are impossible to get out of and proceeded to analyze and Joan-Rivers the steadily growing guests. Later on in the evening, I actually texted my Rockstar the picture I took of the Girl In the Too-Tight Dress as she became known, because the fact that I could see her entire crotchal area and almost her bare bottom could not rudely be kept to myself. It seems that karma most certainly came around on that incident, when Delightfulness disbelievingly pointed out the two non-gentlemen sitting near us indiscreetly taking pictures of my boobage in my sparkly dress. I asked her if I should note to them that such pictures should be used for masturbation purposes only. She, for some reason found this hilarious.
There was one thing that greatly disturbed me. In the wide open party room, the bathroom was blatantly obvious and open to the general public. Of course there was a door with sufficient locking mechanisms to promote privacy while one did their business; however, I needn’t point out that men who imbibe multiple liquorous beverages care not who sees them pee. And so, I decided after seeing at least four men in the urinal position, I needed to find a different restroom to use. Delightful and I headed upstairs to seek one.
Alas! There was no restroom to be found on the open roof of the building, but as we descended once again to the lower levels of the Underlings, I was stopped by a security guard on the stairs.
“Wait! Wait!” He cried in his burly black man way.
I looked around in horror, afraid I had in some way offended the Uptown way of life as I walked down the stairs in my 5″ heels.
“Yes?” I replied hesitantly.
“How you doin?” (Ah, I thought. I understand) He flashed his flirty non-ugly smile at me. “Come here, come here.”
I difficultily ascended a few stairs and leaned forward to hear his whisper.
“Where you from? What’s you’re name? Can I have your number?”
I gave him a million-dollar smile and shrugged.
“I’m Nobody from Far Away, and I don’t know my number.” Delightful and I raced down the stairs when he nearly flung his cell phone at me while trying to convince me to enter my number. Apparently the tie I stole from Delightful’s boyfriend was a Security Guard Magnet.
The rest of the night was a blur, as my older-than dirt brain began to wear down. After leaving the party and trekking a good four blocks in the rain to procure a slice of pizza for the drunken boyfriend of Delight, we were on the road home.
I must say that having a plastered individual back-seat driving is a humourous and yet somewhat-annoying experience. After driving around Lake Calhoun and a few neighborhoods where we could have gotten shot, we found our way back to the interstate. The night was made complete with a late-night stop to Taco Bell, which was disturbingly disgusting. Within 30 seconds of setting foot in Delightful’s apartment, I was sprawled on her couch snoring nearly soundlessly.
P.S. We took a picture in our fabulous get-ups, and laughed hysterically when it looked as though I was pointing at Delight’s much-smaller-than-mine boobies.