Letter From My Sister

Last night I went to my first party in over a year!

It was given by M.'s old crowd of catholic goody-two shoes, but it was Mary's (name has been changed) 40th birthday and I had been to her 30th, so I wanted to go...

So I girded my loins, popped a hydrocodone and hit the road!

Unfortunately, I was just in time to watch the birthday girl throw up and pass out in the hallway; she had been pounding vodka (ugh!) with the "guirls" for two and a half hours. Obviously, things hadn't changed much from ten years ago. At her 30th, she got really drunk and fell down a flight of stairs, and M., really, really drunk, had bandaged the two inch bleeding gash in her knee with French bread from the buffet. I never did find out why she thought bread was the right first aid....

When I arrived everybody was friendly and everything seemed normal and then someone announced that the entertainment was going to begin in spite of the loss of the guest of honor, who, we were told, was "resting " in another room for awhile. We had trooped into the living room and took our seats, laughing and talking.

Guess What? M. and her girlfriends had thought it would be hilarious to embarrass Mary by hiring one of those awful "Sexy Lady" parties for the evening. As Stephen said later when I told him about it, Kind of a porno version of a Mary Kay Makeup party. Exactly. FUN? UGH!

This very tired looking, frizzy blond/black root four inches long, giant fake-boobed, orange spray tanned, cigarette smelling "Sexy Lady" representative introduced herself as HEATHER, our SEXPERT (instead of EXpert, get it? har, har), and revealed a shaky card table she had set up in the living room adorned with thousands of unattractive items, ready to pass around! Heather had an extremely loud voice that sounded like wood going into a chipper, with a lot of whiskey and cigarettes poured in after.

Remember that Mary and her husband are part of a professional, wealthy class of Mexican Americans and are very formal now. Even at this party, all her relatives were dressed in suits, nice dresses and all had had their hair done at the salon that day. All these ladies were ready for a good time, but this weird, scene wasn't anywhere on their radar and they kept sipping their white wine and exchanging nervous laughs and glances while Heather passed out pens and little labia pink folders and very small rubber erasers shaped like little, tiny dicks with little, tiny balls (Isn't this Fun?)

Everyone laughed dutifully, but no one had come a birthday party to sit and listen to a sales pitch, ever body was uncomfortable. Heather seemed to sense that she was going to have trouble with us, and really cleared out her pipes to get attention and screamed her presentation, assuring us that giant, wet, messy "orgazzams" were only moments away if we tried some of her sexy new products! She passed around tons of creams and lotions and powders and whipped creams and everybody was supposed to rub some on different places to sniff or taste. The thick, awful stench of fake strawberry jam and toxic cinnamon started to fill up the room like smoke and a couple of girls got up to go wash their hands and arms, but Heather was getting into her stride and she wasn't going to let anyone off the hook. "Come back here ladies! Do you want 'orgazzams' or not?" she screamed and scared them back to their seats. I was praying for it to be over and glad Mary was blissfully unconscious while Heather re-arranged the Diving Dolphin Ecstasy pump and naughty bunny funny rump tinglier to better advantage on the lopsided card table and took a deep breath to blast us with more unwanted information.

It seemed like we had been passing around vibrators, awful smelling creams and greasy silicone lubes for hours and hours, a bunch of girls had escaped to the kitchen and were ignoring their sex lives and having fun drinking wine, talking and laughing; so Heather pulled out the big guns to get back every one's FULL ATTENTION!", regaling us with unappetizing, very personal i information about her own recent sex life with her new fiance (She pronounced it "fee-ants-see") She let us know that she had had to pay for all these demo items herself and since she had all that stuff at home she thought she might as well use a few toys on her boyfriend, right girls?

Every "girl"holding a vibrator immediately dropped them like boiling hot rocks as we wondered which items, exactly she had used. Like one giant, frightened organism, we ran for hot water and soap and left her alone in the living room the abandoned dildos pulsating, jiggling, and throbbing around her on the floor.

I don't remember much else until I was in my car, speeding away from the scene. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring home my "worksheet" but I did find the little dick eraser in my wallet later, so I guess the evening wasn't a total loss. I'm not sure, though, how to write my thank you, bread and butter (or bread and lube?) letter to the hostess?

If you have any ideas, let me know.

love, Chris