Sex In A Submarine

I miss my 20 year old ass. What I don’t miss is being in my 20’s and making an ass out of myself. Youth isn’t wasted on the young, but countless brain cells are. The good news is, if I should ever desire to upgrade my booty, I can purchase one for the low, low price of whatever a new posterior costs. Brain cells can not be bought back, nor can the media leaked images of youthful, dumb-ass moments. Remember that kids!

Last night was NYE (Happy New Year!). I worked a catering Gala where the ticket prices ranged between $125-$200 per attendee. There was glitz, there was glamour and there were numerous floor length gowns. This dress length is a savvy choice for the girl who just puked up champagne and oysters but doesn’t want anyone to know (discretion is key). They don’t call it a cocktail dress for nothing. What’s a girl to do when she discovers her dinner is now in a puddle on the dance floor? Mop it up with the train of her formal wear of course! The 2015 20-something is not only elegant in her designer ensemble-she knows how to make her outfit work!

But what’s a girl to do after she’s barfed, mopped and rinsed out her mouth with a shot (shots) of Tequila? The answer is as clear as the surgically altered nose on her face.  Just make that dress work some more by hiking it up and having sex in a really public place!

Some facts you might want to consider as you read this post: The Gala takes place in a kid’s science museum. No Dinosaurs were physically harmed in the making of this post, but I can not speak for their emotional scars (oh what those Dinos saw!). The event managers made it clear that all employees were to break-up any sex acts we happened to stumble upon.

All of this circles back to “sex in a submarine”.  One year ago (same time, same venue) a couple was discovered gettin’ their freak on in a replica submarine. The submarine in question was about two feet from the bar and about zero feet from the other 1,000 revelers. A cease and desist was enacted on the couple but they were not ejected from the event. Bound and determined to finish what they’d started, they found and made good use of a stairwell. The stairwells have security cameras. Museums have very bored security personnel, and catering sales plummet in January, which leads to very bored catering personnel.

Lets just say the sex tape got more than a few hits…even without social media.

I rang in the new year by slowly sipping white wine, and silently mocking the over-imbibed from my front porch. I’ve never been so proud to be in my thirties, and have never been so relieved to not be wearing 3 inch stilettos, as I shivered in the cold without a coat (while pretending to be warm in 28 degree weather).

I’ll leave you with a sexy song and a Cheers to your 2015!

I Wanna Make It Wit Chu by: Queens of the Stone Age w/ PJ Harvey


12 thoughts on “Sex In A Submarine

  1. Just to be clear, in our earlier conversation, i never meant to implicate myself as one of the girls you had the misfortune of witnessing last night! All my puking was done in the gutter, thank you! And as for the submarine, sounds adventurous but maybe better to wait until after the museum is closed!!

  2. LOL! I loved your post! Wow! When I was in my 20’s puking was considered alcohol abuse and not allowed! Wait until you get into your 50’s. I can’t hang with all the drinking anymore. We were in bed by 8 p.m. and I read until the fire works stopped at 11 pm. Somehow, your night was much more exciting! Happy New Year Kim! ❤

  3. I swear I was no where near an submarine. 😀 The only time that I get ill enough to vomit is when the kids take home all sorts of nasties from school. That’s enough!

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