Zigga Zig Ahhhhh

Peace out to 2010! The last of family gatherings for what best be a good chunk of months was on New Year's Day, the final of three weddings in two months.

Not to say it was a bad wedding, went on a bit but for their dime I guess the bride and groom are allowed to talk about themselves for 4 hours. I won't claim to have been completely miserable, it was nice enough but I was also fine to have mailed a card.

However, to offset the overly exaggerated ceremony of how the couple met and how the Fates smiled down with approval and foresight, at the reception was a photo booth, and a few chardonnays in, Prada and I looked at each other in silent knowing that we at some point were going to tear that shit up.

Prada was sparkling (literally wearing glitter) in anticipation. She wanted a piece of that action so badly I was willing to go with simply to see children being flung from the line, bandicoot style, spit flying and teeth bared. Or.... the other possibility was a slick slide of her ever so high heel to ankle swipe a bitch and move forward in line unnoticed. I was game, I'd have thrown a pair of prop glasses in a round of fetch with the kids ahead of us but we just cut in, needing nothing more than a "What, what you gonna do!! Back up son" stare. Photo time meant business.

If I look somewhat hostage and resisting, I am. Mostly because the seat in there was about two inches and two sets of cheeks were vying for it.

Told you she was rabid, biting my ear here, or going for the jugular ..... I'm smiling because the wine has stopped my brain from letting me know I should be defending myself.


We then, with others danced our booties off. Well, they did, I haven't a booty BUT I was the only bitch out there who ditched shoes and did the moonwalk when MJ popped off. Dancing with Prada is dangerous if you are Raggety-Ann small and mal-coordinated. i was certain she was going to fling me through a wall in one of our spins - which were sex-ay but - I'd have looked the drunk broad, and something tells me she'd have samba-ed off back into the crowd leaving me behind as "the one who fell." presuming her partner just went missing, twirling off into the crowd, fuck it, get a new one!

Zigga zig Prads, for sure we worked it with the best of em, getting wicked at a party after age 30 rocks more because no one ends up in the bathroom holding hair, been there done that - we simply just rocked the bitch.... then looted the table. Heh, that was my influence, go figure.





-DM