Party Girl

For a very brief period in the mid-1990s, I was really living it up. I traveled constantly, and eating out on the bosses' dime and enjoying libations in the name of client relations were par for the course. Still, if we were to use Lindsey Lohan as our party girl barometer, I was more Lindsey Schultz - the third grade teacher down the street. Occasionally, I would let it fly and do something regrettable and insanely embarrassing (had you been in the press room at the Daytona Speedway in January of 1998, you may have seen a pair of my panties on display), but I mostly kept my partying to one too many in the company of others. I saved puking and cold sweats to the sanctity of my hotel room. Dear Hampton Inn, Anniston, Alabama, Room 224: I'm sorry. I don't think that stain will ever come out.

Nowadays, I have to lie down after 2 beers. About once a decade I think I can relive my 20s, then spend the next several years trying to live it down. Shouts of "JAGERBOMB!", a rolled down window, a bridge and a new Prius - a deadly combination. But still, I yearn for festivity. We have a big Christmas party, and invite friends over frequently, but I need something that requires a fancy dress and a babysitter. Maybe even a hotel room.

Sean suggested a "Mom Prom". He did not make this up! They exist! A bunch of saggy assed women shoehorn themselves into old bridesmaids or wedding dresses, get shitfaced, and raise money for charity.

This kind of sounds like a blast.

And now I'm wondering if this is something I could plan?