Ok. Many of you who bore witness to my array of annoyed facial expressions on Saturday night have been waiting for this blog. I’m not a mom, but I will need to try super hard to not let my “mom” come out in this writing. Not my actual mom. She’s lovely. She sees me tweet horrific things, and say even more horrific things into microphones all the time and she still manages to love me despite her relationship with the lord.
I was getting a little irritated with drunk Megan at the deck party, but was trying to just get on her level instead of being a wet blanket. It’s just that drunk Megan is all over the place. And I found myself, well, by myself a lot that night. I wanted us to remain near each other, because we together are a brand. And as Sonny & Cher, we looked hilarious. So yes, I was hoping Donnie would spot us and invite us up on stage. And guess what? He did. He made eye contact with me, pointed at me and mouthed, “you two, come on” while holding up two fingers. But where was Megan? She was about three people behind me, dancing in circles around Kala and Amanda, and not paying attention. So by the time I got her attention, Donnie threw his hands up and literally mouthed, “Ok, whatever!” Because we didn’t go. We had waited too long. And I was butthurt. I was butthurt about not getting on the main stage (ever) and Megan was butthurt literally because she had a hemorrhoid. And I guess those are painful when you’re dancing and sliding your butt cheeks around constantly.
I suggested we take a quick breather back in the cabin before we tore it up at the after-party. Because. This was the last after-party of the cruise and we had spent the other one calmly bopping near a bunch of cigarette smoke at the previous one. But Megan was working through some personal stuff, and her reaction to that was to drink through it. I can relate to that. Hard. That’s basically how I live my life. But I come by it honestly. Just ask most members of my family, and their livers. As a result of that, it’s extremely difficult for me to get to an unmanageable level of drunkenness. Unfortunately. Megan had changed out of her Sonny outfit about an hour after we arrived at the deck party, because she was worried she didn’t look hot as Sonny. I kept my Cher jumpsuit on, and my obscenely giant butt swinging around until the end of the deck party. I gave up on looking hot about ten years ago. That’s why I’m funny now. But we both changed before the after-party. We wanted to be fresh for dancing well into the early morning. Megan had since picked up some Preparation H for her butthole, so she was feeling a lot better. (Don’t worry, all you Megan-lovers, she gave me permission to talk about her butthole bump.)
We both got into our requisite all-black outfits, but I can’t remember what specifically I was wearing. I do know that I was determined to have some damn fun. We were fairly early, so there was actually visible space on the dance floor. We made a beeline for that space, and ended up directly in front of the tiny stage. I absolutely live for early 2000s rap music. And that is primarily what is played at the after parties. Stuff I heard at school dances and 18+ clubs when I was younger. So I revert back to this person who was fit and knew how to dance. But the thing is. I no longer possess those qualities. But tipsy Kaira believes she does. I was up front, dancing with Kala and crew and had no idea what happened to Megan on the walk there. Upon closer inspection, I realized she was making her way through the dance floor crowd, Donnie-style. As in, she was approaching clusters of women and dancing with/on them as if it was the answer to their prayers. Her facial expression told me that part. As you can imagine, some of these women had no clue who she was or what was happening. It was a lot. Once she finally made her way through the crowd, she made it to us. I was equal parts relieved and annoyed. It’s just that she’s not an actual Blockhead, and she doesn’t know the etiquette.
When Donnie arrived, everyone commenced the usual stance. It’s basically just a whole performance of acting like you’re not DYING for him to come dance near you. He came right to the stage, because that’s what he does at the beginning of after-parties, and he once again made eye contact with me. But it was to tell me to get Megan for him. So. That was an ego blow. I grabbed her by physically turning her head from her adoring public, to face Donnie. And then he brought her up to the stage with him. They both motioned for me to come up, once Meg was situated, but there was only a three-inch triangle of space available and that just wasn’t going to physically happen. So I stayed down rather than embarrass myself by falling off the stage, into the giant pile of CRUMBS they threw me. I kid, I kid. At least they tried, right? But. She. Was. In. Her. Element. (I have the same element, and it’s taking everything I have to even sound this level of bitter instead of going full force crazy person). She was also wasted. She said something to him, then grabbed toward the bottle of whiskey he was holding, and he handed it over for her to swig out of. This prompted me to make eye contact with him and do a very “do not contribute to her delinquency” face at him. In retrospect, that certainly didn’t help my cool factor. I had gone full blown babysitter. Another thing that likely didn’t help my image was that I make a certain face when I dance. Well, when I go hard. And, according to Kala’s blurred memory, I was going HARD that night. I do remember glancing up and seeing Donnie downright laughing at me. Not in a mean way. In an amused way. Like, “Oh, that girl is silly.” Not sexy, but at least he saw me? Or…
After a while, Donnie got down to go make his rounds, but Megan stayed. She couldn’t very well leave when there was a literal line of women waiting to get a bit of her attention. I assume nobody has seen a masculine-presenting lesbian before. She was very diplomatic, dancing with each one for a moment before kissing them on the cheek and sending them on their way. I feel I should stress that everyone was so drunk, that we shouldn’t judge them for their actions. And I’m not gonna name drop here because nobody else gave me permission to air their dirty laundry like Megan did. But it was hilarious. I grabbed the leftovers, once they had been moved along from drunk Meg, or rather, they grabbed me. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.
Megan, still on the small stage, insisted that I go up with her, but also didn’t make any space. Moving past that, I hopped up to dance more of my delusional “this is cool, right?” dancing, and noticed she was unknowingly bumping into the ladies behind us, and basically just being in front of them too much, and I noticed it was starting to bother them. Or maybe I was just hardcore projecting. Probably that. But I asked the girl behind us if she’d like to dance in front for a while, and she did. So I spent a good five minutes trying to explain that to a performing Megan. It was a whole thing. At this point, she was having a hard time balancing while standing, and was beginning to stumble into the personal space of others quite a bit. But she was not ready to calm down. Not at all. I had to take a break from it, though, before I started to get verbally irritated, instead of just making exaggerated faces at anyone who would look at me. So I popped out for a bit and sat at the casino bar with Cedric, ordering another double-tall vodka with water that I didn’t really need or want.
After 20 minutes or so, I wandered back into the after-party, nervous about what I might find. I saw Lisa, asked her if she had seen Megan, because she wasn’t where I had left her, and grew even more nervous when she said she hadn’t. I did a lap, and thankfully found her slumped onto a barstool, at the bar, with a “blue drink” attached to her lips. I asked that nobody give her any more, since when people get past a certain point, their ability to say no becomes a bit bungled. But when I turned back around, someone else was handing her another drink. So I transitioned into mom-mode yet again and insisted it was time to go. Well, that was after a certain someone completely fell off of her bar stool. I’ll not say who. But it rhymes with Smegan. Since she couldn’t really hold herself up or walk a straight line, Kala and I each took an arm and carried her out of the club, past Cedric and co. in a zig zag pattern. I asked Kala to go grab a pizza, so I could get Megan to the room without distraction, and she was nice enough to oblige. That line gets long.
By the time I got Megan to the cabin, she was in a mood. She was pissed we left the party, but couldn’t even sit upright. She kept asking if she was getting pizza, I kept telling her that yes, Kala was getting her pizza, and she asked even more. She kept trying to leave, to wander the ship, but I had already taken my pants and bra off, so I was in no position to chase after her or haul her lifeless body back after she inevitably fell down or passed out. I did take a funny video of her, after assuring her I was not taking a video, of course. I needed proof of what I had been put through. I had left an after party before Donnie. That’s breaking the cardinal rule of after parties. You never leave before Donnie. She eventually went to the bathroom so I laid down, thinking she’d puke and go to bed. About 20 minutes later, I heard what sounded like a scraping from outside, so I got up to investigate. Instead of a strange scraping, what I found was a sound-asleep Megan. On the toilet. Folded in half. Snoring. I tried to help her up, and get her to put her vag away, but she fought me on it, laid down on the bathroom floor, pants still around her ankles, and that’s where I left her. But listen. We’ve all been there. Plus, I was being petty. She eventually made it to her bed, so don’t worry. I didn’t kill her.