And Now A Word From KaritaG

In honor of Betsey’s new boobs, and in keeping with J’s boob theme, I’m going to post about the craziest night mine ever had. Okay, one of the craziest nights.

See, I started law school and it was nothing like college. Hotness got you nowhere. Studying 24/7 did. And I only say that half-jokingly. So, I tried to make some friends that liked to party, see, that were also in law school. I ended up with kind of a mishmash of pseudo-hippies and a few guys from my orientation section.

I got all of these people together one night for a house party at the house I shared with my sister. She’s two years younger than me and invited all of her friends too, who were mostly sorority girls. J was there, but we were just dating at the time, not even for a year yet. I also invited a lot of my college friends (I went to law school in the same town I went to college) so it was sort of a random group. Of mostly men.

Well, my college best friend ARB also happened to be a badass dancer, as in, she actually danced competitively for most of her life, and even did the dance squad for a few years in college. She really missed dancing after she quit competing and decided she was going to learn how to strip and become a stripper. To do this, she thought she needed to go to lots of strip bars to “study.” I’m not sure if she was serious or not, because she never actually did it. But you never knew with her. So she was constantly suggesting that we go to strip bars. Usually we could dissuade her with something like “but there’s a DJ at the Pike house!” but sometimes, especially if there were a lot of guys with us, it was hard to stop the strip club train once it got started.

So we’re at this party at my house and ARB is all wasted and saying, “let’s go to the strip bar!” Of course everyone there (almost all guys) was stoked. So we all load up and go.

Well, we get to the bar and grab a table and this dominatrix stripper starts focusing in on our group. Her name is Deja and she is OUT THERE, I mean, she has chaps on and some chains and carries a whip and everything. We watch her spank some guys and being the dorky baby lawyers that we are, we start talking about whether they could sue her for assault or something. I mean, is it foreseeable that you might get beat with a whip when you go into a strip bar?
Suddenly, Deja grabs me by the hand and pulls me up on stage. I’m FREAKING OUT like, ohmigod please don’t leave any bruises on me, what have I gotten myself into, should I run or will I look like a big pansy if I do, WTF? So I am sitting on the stage, with my legs over the edge, facing out towards the crowd, and of course all the guys I know, including J, are cheering and going nuts. I’m trying to smile, right, through my freaked-outness, when Deja comes to stand behind me. She bends over, like she is whispering something in my ear, and reaches over my shoulder and sort of strokes my leg a little bit…

Then rips my shirt AND BRA off of my body. My girls were on display, albeit only for a brief moment before I clamped my arms to my chest. I am pretty sure this wasn’t what she meant to do, as she basically had the same expression of shock and awe on her face that I did when it happened.

I think that she just meant to give a little flash of my breasts in all of their Wonderbra-encased glory, and accidentally got a finger hooked under the front of the bra. My jaw sort of dropped, my eyes went wide with shock.

I looked at the stripper, mortified, and she just stared back. She looked sort of scared. Like I might actually try to jump some chick with a cat o’nine tails or something! We were just sitting there, while Limp Bizkit or some shit was playing, and it was like her whole routine got thrown off. I can’t even imagine what the rest of the routine was, now that I am thinking about it. I sort of pulled my shirt and bra together and crossed my arms over my chest and ran through the crowd out the front door of the bar. J was right behind me, so we ran to the car and got in and drove away, not even saying goodbye to anyone!

In the car, in between J going “holy shit did you just see that ohmigod” and my cell phone blowing up with my friends going “um, so does that mean the party is over?” I’m trying to put my shirt and bra back in their proper arrangement, and it’s Just. Not. Working. J and I quickly realize that the bra is actually BROKEN. That crazy bitch broke my favorite push-up bra! I was pretty sure J thought I was nuts at this point. Or a lot of fun, you never know with guys.

Monday I had to go to class with those people! And the guy in front of me in torts was like, so, I heard your party was pretty rockin’ on Saturday, wink wink. I’m really not that flamboyant in everyday life, believe it or not. You only get to see the craziness if you hang out with me on the weekends. In class, I generally sat in silence and messed around on the internet. No lie. I just thought 99% of the people I went to law school with were just way uptight, so didn’t really talk to anyone – I showed up, sat through my class, and got the hell out of there. So I am pretty sure that most of my classmates didn’t believe the “rumor” when they heard it, though I definitely got some strange looks that day. Luckily the people that were at the party, that I was actually friends with, thought the whole thing was pretty hysterical and “knew,” I suppose, that I wasn’t out getting molested by dominatrix strippers every weekend.

Or ever again. Because I never, ever, ever thought it seemed like a good idea after that when someone drunkenly suggested going to the strip bar, and certainly not that one. But I have to admit it was probably the craziest night my boobs ever had. They were pretty much invited to the party, if you know what I mean.

So, here’s to Betsy’s new boobs. May they get invited to lots of parties and molested by dominatrix strippers!