So it turns out I have a dark side -- a real tough girl underneath this sweet exterior. I may be a petite, sexy, God-fearing woman, but I can really throw down with the rest of them. I am hardcore.
Note: Everything you will read on this blog is without a doubt completely true and entirely factual.
Picture this: It's New Year's Eve, and I have plans to go out with my equally sexy, though not quite as God-fearing, niece. We agree to meet at a classy joint, the name of which will be witheld to protect the identity of the innocent -- you know, one of those places where an extravagant number of 200-lb women wearing stretch lycra exposing their fleshy abdomens dance the night away to the sweet sounds of bad hip-hop music, a place where diversity reigns in the form of unattractive women with stringy hair bumping and grinding on one another as men with hair in odd places look on with love. A place where the more tattoos you have on your face, forearms, and neck, the cooler you are. And everyone is partying like it's 1999. Like I said -- a classy nightclub, only the best for my niece and me.
Not surprisingly, my niece and I found ourselves on the stage shortly after midnight, dancing as best we could, trying to compete with the large, pretend lesbians that shook the stage with every swivel of their hips, and trying to avoid the short, sweaty man who was convinced that he was meant to be my Latin lover. He danced terrible Salsa all over the stage in an effort to lure me into his grasp.
At some point, I noticed that a group of greasy-haired men below the stage were eyeing my niece and me, much to the chagrin of their girlfriends. I made a mental note to keep my eye on them . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
Note: Everything you will read on this blog is without a doubt completely true and entirely factual.
Picture this: It's New Year's Eve, and I have plans to go out with my equally sexy, though not quite as God-fearing, niece. We agree to meet at a classy joint, the name of which will be witheld to protect the identity of the innocent -- you know, one of those places where an extravagant number of 200-lb women wearing stretch lycra exposing their fleshy abdomens dance the night away to the sweet sounds of bad hip-hop music, a place where diversity reigns in the form of unattractive women with stringy hair bumping and grinding on one another as men with hair in odd places look on with love. A place where the more tattoos you have on your face, forearms, and neck, the cooler you are. And everyone is partying like it's 1999. Like I said -- a classy nightclub, only the best for my niece and me.
Not surprisingly, my niece and I found ourselves on the stage shortly after midnight, dancing as best we could, trying to compete with the large, pretend lesbians that shook the stage with every swivel of their hips, and trying to avoid the short, sweaty man who was convinced that he was meant to be my Latin lover. He danced terrible Salsa all over the stage in an effort to lure me into his grasp.
At some point, I noticed that a group of greasy-haired men below the stage were eyeing my niece and me, much to the chagrin of their girlfriends. I made a mental note to keep my eye on them . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
4 comments:
hey...what have u been up too? Love your little sis
write something would ya!!!
No new comments in quite awhile here at your blog Sister Christian. I hope all is well!
Good for people to know.
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