Okay, you must read part 1 before you get here. You must understand the #crankyparts part of the evening before you can appreciate the #wineparty confessions part (okay, that's a lie, but, it'll help provide some perspective!)
Basically, a friend was experiecing a douchebag husband, and so I tried to entice her to join us on #wineparty. Several mutual friends saw my attempt, and pleaded, too, that she needed to join us. It was an innocent start. I swear.
She mentioned that she was intimidated by #wineparty - that it moved too fast to keep up. I told her to come and talk with us. I promised that we didn't bite.. Well, we didn't bite HARD. ;)
It went downhill from there...
One person replied that it was a darn shame that we didn't bite hard, at which point I offered to oblige.
You can see how this snowballed even in the triple-digit heat.
We had all sorts of confessions in the night. I even tried to get our hostess' (Kit @blogdangerously - if you don't read her blog you shoud!) confession, but she went to Twitter jail even without confessing first.
Special robes were involved, and I let folks know that I was willing to take confessions in privately by DM
We had confessions about enjoying nipples... (I tried to widen my survey about whether Married Women Like Breasts...but the most I got was that they enjoyed the female form in various manners...
Well, except one girl, but I already knew about her... ;)
It even sorta took a life of its own. Without me.
We had porn confessions. Confessions of a desire to murder one's family. (We hope that didn't come true, because then we'd all become accessories before the fact and that wouldn't be good...) Addiction to attention (had to add that, or else that person might think I wasn't paying attention, and we couldn't have that...). It was something!
I'll continue to take confessions throughout the week. You can tweet me @theborgblog, or e-mail me at theborgblog@gmail.com
I have special robes. It's all official-like. Honest. ;)
While you're on the topic of biting...
ReplyDeleteI sat down in my hairstylist's chair last week - it was a warm day, I was wearing a tank top - and he got quiet for a second as he squinted his eyes to focus on my shoulder. My first thought was "Ugh, I probably have a huge pimple there," but then I remembered, just as he said, "Is that...." "Oh god, yes! I am so busted!"
Thank goodness hairstylists have special robes and a sealed confessional as well.