things you can learn from sitting on a moose

It started with a moose.

I think it was a few weeks ago that Andrea and I first decided we needed to go to Mollie Fontaine's one Thursday night, and like the preppy little white girls we are, we selected a particular Thursday and made a notation of said Mollie's date in our respective planners, probably in blue or black ink. And then, of course, about three days out we began sending reminder e-mails, making wardrobe arrangements and writing things on sticky notes. Lots of them. COLOR CODED.

Somewhere in the midst of all this planning -- probably Monday night about halfway through the second bottle of red at the Vagina Monologues "meeting" -- this Mollie's date became an excursion, an extravaganza, a bonding outing for the VagMo production team. And really, the team? Just four women. But in much that same way that particular powers can combine to form Captain Planet (he's our hero), when these personalities come together, atomic things have been known to happen.

Now, back to the moose.

Through a serendipitous turn of events, the details of which are mostly hazy for me now, Heather had come equipped that evening with what became known as the Jank Ass Disposable Camera. As in, cardboard-coated, windable wheel, rechargeable flash, take it on your fifth grade trip to Shiloh disposable camera. So intrigued were we by the prospect of taking mediocre quality pictures and not being able to see them until they were developed that before we even made it to the bar we'd essentially challenged ourselves to capture 27 frames of absolute MAGIC.

I suppose that's really when the moose enters our story.

If you've ever been to Mollie's you know there's a somewhat inexplicable statue of a moose chilling in front of the apartment complex next door. And maybe you don't know this about me, but I really can't resist the urge to climb upon and/or sit on statues and public monuments. It's cosmic. Magnetic? Particularly when said statue basically requires mounting. And thus, the first photo of the evening was captured -- me, straddling a moose, making some type of face that I probably would've told you at the time was "sexy" and doing something with my neck that would make Tyra Banks weep openly at a juding panel on America's Next Top Model.

Next thing I know, the laughable two-drink limit we'd set for ourselves is somewhere in the rearview mirror as I'm cruising through drink four and onto shot number two, purchased for us by this lovely gal named Marla, though even now I don't really know why she loved us quite that much. But if I know one thing, it's don't look a gift sugar mama in the mouth. OR SOMETHING.

Everything starts to get a little muddy at this point. There were mustaches drawn on index fingers with a Sharpie marker. There was a creeper who may have humped Andrea's leg some time before paying for her cab ride home. (Word on the street is he also narrowly escaped Heather taking her heel off and "stabbing him in the forehead.")

And then, it was 3 in the morning. And then, it was Alex's Tavern. And PBR. And juke box selections. And then, it was 5:30. IN THE MORNING. Or maybe later. Earlier?

I learned some valuable lessons that night, y'all. The first is that in light of the well-intentioned two-drink limit that became the all-you-can-imbibe buffet, I must always, always, ALWAYS set an alarm before leaving the house for the night. Even if I'm going out for just one drink. Or coffee. Or CHURCH.

The second lesson? Moose sitting is NEVER optional.


cheers,
elizabeth