It has come to my attention that people who read my blog posts might believe I am somewhat “wild.” In reading back through recent posts, I noticed a few emerging themes, including but not limited to: 1) staying out until early morning, 2) drinking gin, and 3) shooting pool. I can see how 1+2+3=a wild crazy party girl.
I stay out until the alarm clark rings because, well, here in Nevada all the casinos and bars are open 24/7. There is no last call and irritated bartender turning the lights on and asking everyone to clear out. Plus, my friends are wild and difficult to escape from.
I’d like to say this in defense of my gin consumption: I only drink Tanqueray.
Last Thursday, I met a girl friend in town to shoot pool. Some Starr Valley cowboys showed up, so we all had a few adult beverages and played partners. Christina went home early, so I migrated with the guys to the Silver Dollar. Another buckaroo joined us, and we headed to The Horseshoe.
We had staked out some barstools and were chatting when the TS crew showed up. Chase sat down next to me and said, “Jolyn, I thought you were such a nice girl – how did you end up in a strip club?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied, “but you should’ve seen the last girl. She was way hotter than the one dancing now.”
I reached behind him to grab my cup of water from the bar. Yes, water – I’m THAT kind of wild.
One Saturday, a girl friend and I met at 4 in the afternoon to chat about the Bible and how we should go about being Christian women. At the conclusion of our informal lesson, she grabbed a box of Jell-o, a bottle of vodka, made two dozen Jell-o shots, and stuck them in the fridge while we went for a walk.
After our usual 5-mile jaunt, we sat down with spoons to eat our shots. After 3 apiece, we looked at one another and said, “There’s no alcohol in these! I feel nothing. Sheesh.”
After three more, we looked up at each other, spoons paused in mid-bite. “My head feels huge! These definitely have booze in them.”
We polished off 18 Jell-o shots, slammed back a couple Washington Apples, ate some rice and tortilla chips, spent an hour changing into town clothes and doing our hair and makeup, and headed for the bar. We ran into a crowd of our friends (all with nicely shaped cowboy hats, might I add) and enjoyed a drink while visiting.
Still mindful of our desire to live morally, we skipped out of the bar with our friends (they’re wild! beware!) and headed for the G Bar basement, not at all the usual hangout. They’d never find us there.
We played a few games of pool, sobered up, and drove home. I was snuggled into bed when a friend texted me at 12:07 AM asking if I was at Stockmen’s; everyone else was, and the dancing was great. I said I was showered, teeth brushed, jammie-clad and down for the count.
In bed by midnight: I’m THAT kind of wild.
Some nights, I’m tipsy by the time I’m done making supper at home. Other nights, I’m stone-cold sober and dancing until 3:30 AM. You just can’t know.
I’m THAT kind of wild.