Archive for the 'Friday Question' Category

10
Sep
10

Friday Question #128 (#1 for me)

From http://www.ilaxstudio.com/blog/category/friday-questions/

How did you celebrate your 21st birthday? If you aren’t 21 yet, how do you plan to celebrate?

It was one of the best birthdays I have ever had… I lived in Virginia with Ted and our Room mate, Ken. We all worked at Busch Gardens, Williamsburg and we loved who we worked with. Ken was a total alcoholic and he decided that He was taking me, along with Harriette (who I must add was the most beautiful woman I had seen to date) to a drag club that was celebrating it’s last night open.

We met up at Harriette’s apartment, and she was outside ready to get the night started. We crossed some busy 6 lane with an island divide highway to get to the bar, I was carded and thusly taken to the bar where Ken announced to everyone that it was not only my 21st birthday, but my first time at a drag club. From then on, I didn’t see the bottom of my glass and, since it was closing night, no one made me pay for any of it.

I drank and drank and watched the most amazing performances and talked to men who I thought were women and watched as many people thought that Harriette was one of the queens because of how flawless she was. I have to stop here for a moment and tell you that these queens were like no other “cross dressers” I have met before or since. They were the most beautiful and divine women I had ever seen. They fluffed and tucked so well that the Cher “imposter” in all of her “If I Could Turn Back Time” leotard glory, did not have a cock or ball lump ANYWHERE to be seen. And when I asked her where she “put them”, (I was decidedly plastered by this point, no question seemed improper any longer) she told me that she’s good at tucking and even when she bent over for me, they still couldn’t be located.

I drank non-stop and as much as I could from 9 pm until 2 am and was SO drunk that I had to crawl back across 6 lanes (with an island divide) highway to Harriette’s apartment, with Ken, Harriette and two other girls (who I can not remember through the haze that was the end of my birthday) blocking traffic for me. Her doorman (yes, she was THAT ritzy) held the door for me. The elevator guy (yes, she had one of those too) held the elevator open for us and off we jutted to the 22nd floor. I crawled to the door, went in and just KNEW that I was going to puke. I half crawled half walked to her bathroom and right before we got to the toilet, I ralphed up liters of tequila, vodka, rum and sloe gin all over Harriette’s perfect cream and seafoam green bathroom. And I couldn’t move any closer as I puked. It was the kind of barfing that is so intense that it takes every ounce of energy and uses every muscle in your body to accomplish, yet you JUST CAN’T STOP! I felt so bad. I was crying like a baby in a sea of gag, and asking Harriette to bring me paper towels and a mop. She would have none of it. After all, that’s what maid service is for. (Yes!) So, she ushers me into her bathroom where I showered, and changed, barfed a few more times both during and after the shower, and this time in the appropriate receptacle. I put on my work clothes (since that is all I brought for the following day) and I staggered into Harriette’s living room.

Harriette’s living room was the most amazing room I have ever been in. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows looking over Hampton, Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay. The lights of the city were amazing at that height and at that hour. I sat on her sink-in-so-deep-I-never-wanted-to-move couch and started apologizing to Harriette for barfing all over her bathroom and she looked at me in amazement and asked, “Are you apologizing for getting ripped on your 21st birthday?” She said that all of this was a right of passage and that I was never to “utter those horrible words” in reference to my 21st birthday super puke ever again.

It was at this point that Ken got a 5 gallon bucket and put it at my feet, while Harriette pulled out stale saltines and warm water and they began to feed me. I knew almost instantly that I was going to puke again and Ken just pointed to the bucket. After the puke parade subsided, they told me to eat and drink more. I thought they were nuts. I told them that I would just puke it all back up and they said that was the point. They continued this merry-go-round of nasty crackers, warm water and vomit festivities for over an hour until I started keeping everything down. By this time, it’s 4 am and I am passing out.

Ken woke me at 9 am for work and surprisingly, I had no hangover. I was sleepy and weak, but feeling pretty good. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to spend my 21st birthday with the most expert alcoholics in the world. I had a blast!




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