You Deserve a Drink: Boozy Misadventures and Tales of Debauchery by Mamrie Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

our nicest silk robes (yes, there was more than one silky robe option) and had my roommate drive us around to each new member’s house. There, on their doorstep, we would hand them a formal, handwritten invitation (with a personalized poem inside) and a glass of champagne to toast their membership. The whole thing was risqué and ridiculous, but there was an air of elegance to it. Well, until we got to about the eighth or ninth house, and then we were just drunk girls in robes, cheersing
way
too loud. I might’ve puked in a yard—who’s to say?
    The following Tuesday, we invited the newbies to the first-ever Topless Tuesday Welcome Potluck Dinner. We were throwing it at Melissa’s house, and because it was only a minute’s drive away, I wore jean shorts, a silk robe, and nothing else. However, I did have my deep fryer and ingredients for fried okra. *
    I parked my Honda behind Melissa’s house in the yard. I knew a lot of people were coming and there was limited parking, but we were close enough for me to park in her grass (a true sign of friendship in the South). As I rounded the house to her front yard, I saw a few new members headed inside and decided they needed a proper welcome. I put down my FryDaddy full of grease, opened up my robe, and shook my goods while singing out, “Welllllcome to Topless Tuesday, bitches!”
    Just as I was about to ask them to help me carry my shit, one of them turned around and spoke.
    “There’s a For Rent sign in the yard. We were just hoping to see the house. . . .”
    Standing there, robe open, ta-tas to the moon, you could’ve heard a cricket blink. It was a silent standoff. They looked shocked. I looked naked. They looked at my boobs. I still looked naked.
    We stood there, not knowing what to do for what felt like an eternity but was probably ten seconds. I had to make a move.
    I could’ve apologized, could’ve told them that now probably wasn’t a great time to see the place. I could’ve. But where’s the fun in that?
    “You wanna see the house? Sure! Come on in. Just a heads-up, though, we are having a party. So you’ll have to stay for a drink.”
    I led them right into the pandemonium. Talking Heads played on a record player in the corner, and twenty girls in their bras or nahs happily did their thing like it was no big deal. There was a topless gal organizing her cheese tray, another one pulling a slow-roasted pork shoulder out of the oven. It was like a twelve-year-old Mario Batali’s wet dream.
    Just as I was about to completely lie about the square footage of the place, Melissa rounded the corner with a tray full of cocktails. She handed the tray to one of the shocked guests and said, “Two questions. Would you like a Singapore Sling? And who the hell are you?”
    “They saw the For Rent sign and wanted to take a look at the place.”
    “New friends! Let me show you around.” With that she whisked them away for the grand tour as I called out after her, “I’ll try to keep you
abreast
of any more visitors!” followed by a wink and pointing of a finger gun at myself in the hallway mirror.
    The rest of the night was a total success, bewildered guests and all. We stuffed our faces and even organized a calendar designating each member a Tuesday to lead the lesson or activity. It was the perfect kickoff for what ended up being a solid year of Topless Tuesdays.
    Here’s where I want to take a moment and tell you why I loved this club so much. I’m sure a lot of you read this and wonder,
Why no shirt? Couldn’t you have learned to knit and get drunk while also keeping the girls under wraps?
Of course we could’ve. But here’s why I think it was important.
    I want to tell you about a certain TT member. Let’s say her name was Claire. Claire came to her first Tuesday not knowing what to expect. She had heard us talk about our club before but didn’t know if the toplessness was just something we talked about for shock value.
    When Claire came to that