Things I Need to Apologize For (and Things I Don’t)

You know what was great about the Milk Glass Halloween party?

The Costumes.

It’s also the worst thing about the party because here’s the thing. I pretty much made out with everyone at the party.


Well, mostly women OR SO I THOUGHT until I ran into Fantastic Mr. Fox at school drop-off on Friday.


Seriously, I was forcing myself on just about any (woman) that would let me in her personal space.


Don’t ask me why because at this point in time I might have a few ideas about what got into me but I’m sure as hell not elaborating about it here.

Let’s just say that I really wanted everyone to know what an exceptional kisser I am.


I figure that since I was just smooching women, it’s no big deal. Right?

The only thing is that I can’t remember who I smooched.

It was dark, alright!

It was dark, alright!

This is a problem because I can’t really tell who was at the party. I know which of my friends were there but the other people? Hell if I know.


I know these people but I didn’t know that I knew them. And I’m sorry if I force-frenched you.

So I’m in this major state of anxiety because when I’m at the school and someone walks past me and gives me a weird look I don’t know if it’s because they are squicked out by the fact that I force-frenched them and now they are questioning my/their sexuality, or if they are just looking weird because they look weird.


Me. All the time.


Do you see my problem?

The only thing worse than getting drunk and making out with a bunch of people at a party is NOT REMEMBERING WHICH ONES YOU MADE OUT WITH. Every single person I see at school might be a person I have to apologize to.

Scenario A

Me: Uh, were you at the party?

Person At School: No

Me: You missed out. It was fantastic! (Oh thank god)

Scenario B

Me: Uh, were you at the party?

Person At School: Yes

Me: Did we … uh … I … um … did I … sorry.

It’s the worst fucking part! Did I or didn’t I? Hell if I know.

Me at the school Halloween party. "Did I make out with you? Sorry."

Did I make out with you? Sorry.

Loony is no help because he’s just making fun of me and letting me sit in my own poopy diaper.

And the one woman that I was SURE I had made out with, I didn’t make out with!

I know this because I went over to her house the next day to apologize and she was all, “We didn’t make out. My husband told me that you told him that we made out but we didn’t.”

Me: No. I’m sure we did.

Her: Nope. We were dancing and this guy was videoing us and he yelled at my husband when he got in the way. Then he asked you if you would make out with his wife and you said okay.

Me: So what happened?

Her: I think you made out with his wife. Then you transferred that memory onto me.

Me: Well that’s a relief. Who was the guy and wife?

Her: No idea.

Me: Awesome.

As for my friend’s husband (who is smoking hot) I left him alone because despite my condition, I have serious boundaries about my friends’ hot husbands.

I’m not going there. Not even in jest.

Your husbands are safe!


But he was wearing this crazy costume that had a huge headpiece and I couldn’t see his face so I just went under it and, you know, conversation.

Seriously. We talked about very stupid stuff.

Well, I talked about stupid stuff and he was like, “Okay. That’s nice Viv. Can I have my personal space back?”

But according to his wife (and apparently other people in the room) it didn’t exactly look like that.

At the time I felt like there was lots of room under that mask but the next time I saw it I kind of wondered what the hell I was thinking. Not much space.


But I stand by my assertion that all that went on under there was awkwardly close talking.

Oh boy.


And Nina. She rocked pasties at the party which was pretty fucking rad.

Queens of Hearts

My boobs are almost out and I haven’t even left the house.

But if you know Nina you will know that

1) this is a stretch for her and

2) Nina is rather, er, assertive about everything

3) doesn’t have a bisexual bone in her body. I mean, she’ll tell you tout suite that your ass looks fine in those Bad Kitty pole shorts, but still,

4) groping her boobies probably isn’t a good idea.

In fact, she rather humorlessly told me (at the outset of the party) to keep my hands the hell off her boobs.

Her husband wasn’t allowed to touch them for crying out loud!

This guy who is married to her is not allowed to touch her boobies ... at the party.

This guy who is married to her is not allowed to touch her boobies … at the party.

So guess what happened?

Screen Shot 2014-11-01 at 9.05.21 PM



Screen Shot 2014-11-01 at 9.05.34 PM


Nina generously let me off the hook.

Aw shucks, Nina. I’m glad to know you aren’t furious with me because I don’t want to see you angry at me.


Moving right along.

I’m sorry about jumping on the performance artist to dressed up like a dog.


For some reason I just had roll around on the floor with him because he was so big and shaggy and didn’t have a face.

But he seemed kind of scared of me and the way he cowered in the corner should have told me that he wasn’t into it.

And I’m sorry about the giant rabbit that I wouldn’t leave alone.

I was obsessed with this rabbit and he would not break character.

White Rabbit on stilts

No matter how much I hassled him, he wouldn’t break character because HE WAS DOING HIS JOB!


I’m sorry I didn’t get to ride the giant stilt/horse thing.

What? I wanna ride!

What? I wanna ride!

And I’m sorry that my boobs kept popping out of my corset because (and you have to believe me) I really didn’t engineer my costume that way. I even prematurely posted a self-congratulatory post about how I wasn’t going to go slutty this year.

My nipple lies in wait.

My nipples lie in wait

All I had to do was move just a little and …


If you put me in a costume I become someone else, which is why I love Halloween so much.

But I’m not sorry that the bartender saw my boobs and got a “work boner” (his words, not mine) because clearly it wasn’t upsetting him.

And I’m not sorry that I made out with that guy’s wife because, duh, he totally asked me to.

And heck, I guess I’m not that sorry that I was completely out of control because the general consensus is that people totally expect that shit from me by now and, as a rather conservative school mom said, “You can get away with it so just let it go.”

What? Permission to be a total freak? Alright!

I will say that I toned it down for the school Halloween celebration, although even my tamest work is slightly provocative and features a lot of boob.


Everyone asked me if I made this costume. To that I answer with a question: Where would one go to buy a full-body pig suit with eight suckling pigs?

Of course I made it.

Just to wrap up, here are pictures of the venue. Carly, the event planner and head of Milk Glass Productions really knocked this one out of the park.



I can’t say enough wonderful things about the decor, design, execution, staff, professionalism and creativity that went into this party. You should hire her.

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Well that just about wraps up my enormous mea culpa.

Why do I document and publish these things? I once heard a wonderful quote that I hold near and dear to my heart.

“There is nothing worse than losing control of your own narrative.”

I put it out there so no one else can. I mean, they can, but it’s not like it’s something I didn’t already make public.

26 thoughts on “Things I Need to Apologize For (and Things I Don’t)

  1. I made it into 3 photos in this post! I can now die happy. It was a great party-you also made it wildly entertaining, and I had an amazing time. Sad I missed the groping/making out though….

    • Thank you so much for taking care of the sick bunny, I feel bad that you had to go so soon but I clearly was not in condition to take care of anyone. I was really looking forward to communing more with your boobies. Sigh, next time …

      • I took it as a pre-admission test I had to overcome to earn my acceptance to doctorhood. I was happy to take care of her, glad that I could!
        I will set aside boob communing time soon just for you.

        • You live by my mantra! 😀 You’ll learn, as you get older, that rules are made to be broken. Be bold enough to live life on your terms, and never, ever apologize for it. Go against the grain, refuse to conform, take the road less traveled instead of the well-beaten path. Laugh in the face of adversity, and leap before you look. Dance as though EVERYBODY is watching. March to the beat of your own drummer. And stubbornly refuse to fit in.” ― Mandy Hale, The Single Woman: Life, Love, and a Dash of Sass

        • Ah well. Unfortunately I still care what people think but I’m not letting it stop me quite as much. I wish it wasn’t so anxiety producing. Practice makes perfect?

          And I always leap before I look. Some of my best life decisions were made that way, like marrying Loony, the person I was most unlikely to succeed with, having babies, and to a far lesser degree (because I won’t put my husband and kids on the same level of importance as my pets) getting Blue. Had I thought any of it through I probably wouldn’t have done it.

  2. you have my permission to be a total freak,I/ we all need to live vicariously through you ,especially cause I couldn’t be there and didn’t get any lip locks btw the production of that party seem over the top

    • The production on that party was uh-maze-ing! Every detail was thought of, her staff was attentive and friendly and encouraging, her performers were fantastic. It was a full-immersion evening. And the music, I could have danced all night. They totally threw me out at 2am. Too bad you weren’t there, your boobies are extra special these days.

    • Not sure about the reference but I’ll roll with it.

      Were you with me when I saw RHPC at the Blue Mouse? My car skid on black ice while parking and smacked into the car in front of me and out came four guys in full drag? Oh Salt Lake City in the 80s.

      • Regrets, no, twas not I.

        I was there when Andrew Mouton tried to kill Mike Lafleur and me.

        Why are there no Blue Mice anywhere anymore? Someone needs to do RHPC on weekends, revivals of cinematographic masterpieces like “Days of Heaven,” Cary Grant in-focus weeks, Silent comedies and scandalous 1930’s Betty Boop cartoons for school kids during the midsummer weekdays, avant-garde foreign films, and purposefully ignored lefty documentaries.

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