So, this is what I'm going to look back on and laugh about in a rocking chair.

On Saturday,
MyOreo, MySister, and I decided to go to out. However, MySister backed out claiming a headache and not feeling well. After that didn't appease me to the point of letting her out of our previously made plans she backtracked to the dreaded "My parents won't let me". I couldn't argue with that so MyOreo and I set off to Popfest (a local show at the local skatepark full of local bands covering pop songs and adding their own twists). It seemed fun, it seemed interesting. It wasn't, to say the least. Too many little kids, not enough talent. Too many cliques and dirty looks and idiotic stereotypes and superiority complexes. Smoking area wasn't exactly a smoking area with a security guard harassing for IDs and threatening actual jail to twelve year olds. Entertaining, but not pleasant. We left. We ended up in Frank's (an alternative store with everything you can imagine having to do with music, 70s, incense, hippie clothes, ect ect ect). There we chatted with Frank about dread locks, and a girl was nice enough to share a piece of her moon rock with me. That moon rock is in my car, and it makes me smile every time I see it. Frank then made a comment about some football game, gesturing behind the counter. It hit me. A huge game was on, and MySister backed out sketchily. It would have been crafty because I would have never known the difference, if it wasn't for Frank. Too bad the joke would be on her.

We met up with MyDiva at Starbucks. I had a caramel machiatto and I couldn't get used to how sweet the coffee was. I guess I'll be sticking to my regular cappuccinos. You see, MyDiva had met a new boy and started dating him. He had been invited to TheGayClub, the only one in this city of 1,260,581. I was worried beyond oblivion, with the sketchiness and stigma given that place. I just didn't want him going alone with someone who I didn't know and trust. MyDiva told his mom that he was sleeping over at my house. MyOreo and I told my mom that I was sleeping over at MyDiva's house. Long story short- MyOreo and I were off to TheGayClub.

We were all sixteen and seventeen with no fake IDs. We were all going to scale an eight foot wall. However, we were not all very tall. As per usual, I was the the shortest and the most unable. To the best of my abilities I'll try and describe how it looked. A vibrant redhead with Shirley Temple curls and ballet flats in the rain with a group of 4 other people looking upon a plank put up against the wall that was slippery, unstable, and only went up about two feet. From that plank I was suppose to step up on a tiny knob post that would boost me up another couple of inches. Then came the iron ladder attached to the old building that was about seven feet in the air. I could reach it, but my legs were too short. I couldn't hoist myself up onto it. I tried, I slipped, I fell. It must have been comical, and I was shaken up. Mostly, though; I was embarrassed, brushing it off. Out of nowhere, a larger man with a heart of even larger proportions approached us and asked if i was okay. Red curls, more red cheeks, I tried brushing him off. He was obviously legal, about to get in the club. Then came the magic words. "I'm a cheerleader!" I was lifted up over the wall with no effort whatsoever. My hero. My hero that didn't make me feel fat. MyOreo did have a bit of trouble, too. Us girls do not do hoisting our weights up to get to high places. She is about five foot ten, though. She has legs going to miles. Not as much trouble as me with my five foot three and stubby legged frame, but I guess it's a comfort to know I'm not the only ungodlike one in physical form. Once in, I see my cheerleader hero. I give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Once all the way in, I see it is drag night. Beautiful, robust, confident women dancing and singing and strutting everything they have to upbeat music. It was marvelous. It was fun. MyOreo and I decided to stick together, be dates. Oh, she's super straight. We just figured we'd join in on the couple-fun and make sure it was clear that we do not need to be hit on. Through the video lounge, making sure nobody noticed our underage wrists without a wristband. To the restrooms, to a completely disgusting and raunchy excuse for a restroom. Clogged up toilet, vomit-filled sink, wet floor, my awful gag reflex put to it's use. Dusted ourselves off, hovered, left shame when i fell off the ladder. Dancing with beautiful people, up on the platform being looked at. More dancing, more people, more groping. I was glad my clothes were on.

Tired and ready to go, we hit up the IHOP. Five sweet teas later, MyOreo and I headed home. Garage opener put to use, only about a foot up. Rolled under. Garage opener put to use, a foot down. Creeping silently through the door, clackity ballet flats taken off. Tiptoe upstairs, straight to bed. After all, we had church in a few hours.



MySister heard all about it the next day.