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

initiation potluck, I saw her act shy for the first time since I’d known her. She had a great time socializing and drunkenly dished out her cobbler, but she left her shirt on the whole time. About two Tuesdays later, I walked in and saw that Claire was in her bra. A month later she was in tassels. Three months later and the girl was teaching me how to play Chinese checkers butt-ass naked.
    You see, the club was never about the nudity. It was about creating a space, a day, a group of people you didn’t need to impress with your body. Girls spend so much time trying to look good in front of each other, and for what? Do I really care if my friend has a muffin top? Do I give a shit if another friend has weird nipples? FUCK NO. Topless Tuesday was a judgment-free zone. And becoming that comfortable without clothes around my friends actually made me more comfortable
in
my clothes all the other days ofthe week. Topless Tuesdays was a place to go,
Ah, nobody is perfect. Literally, no
body
is perfect.
So, why do I stress about mine?
    Fast-forward to present day. My friends Hannah, Grace, and I do a live show called the #NoFilterShow, which we tour around from time to time. We do a lot of audience participation, I do a live
You Deserve a Drink
segment onstage, and it always derails into ridiculousness.

    Don’t mind us. Just three adult women in pencil costumes orchestrating an entire stage show around fart sound effects.
    During one of our recent shows, while doing an old-school dating game bit, I was dressed as an ice-cream sundae and Grace was dressed as a wedge of cheese, with Hannah serving as our host. It’sa silly audience-participation bit that involves (naturally) a lot of puns about whatever costumes we’re wearing. Grace and I usually delve into terrible, self-involved characters who are more concerned with creating the weird story line than actually talking to the audience members who are trying to date us.
    Anyway, as I was sitting there laughing onstage, having fun with my friends, an audience member took it upon himself to scream out “saggy tits” at me. Yes. Go ahead and reread that sentence; take it all in. Saggy tits.
    I was flabbergasted. Normally I would’ve shot back a superclever response in my character’s voice, but I was so caught off guard, I actually kind of blacked out. I only realized from GIFs on Tumblr the next day that I made the guy stand up and told him I was going to murder him. But, like, in a “fun murder” way.
    I should’ve told him that if I have saggy tits I can at least get a breast lift, but there is no operation or amount of money that can ever lift his saggy-ass personality. But I didn’t, and I hate that I didn’t. Luckily, Grace, in her cheese-wedge glory, backed me up and told everyone to subscribe to his YouTube channel, youtube .com/imadick. (Which is probably an actual channel at this point, so I’m sorry–slash–you’re welcome to whoever owns it.)
    All comebacks aside, here is why that arsehole threw me off so bad. I read all kinds of insanely rude comments on my videos. On the Internet, people have the protection of anonymity and say things to you that they would never say to your face. While I hate that aspect of YouTube, it comes with the territory, and I chose to make myself vulnerable to it. But this wasn’t YouTube. This wasn’t a comments section.
    This jackass took a moment when everyone was having fun and decided to be rude about my body. This makes zero sense, and for a variety of reasons:
    A. I was dressed as an ice-cream sundae—the least boob-flaunting outfit of all time!
    B. This wasn’t a high school improv assembly you are forced to go to because it’s also chock-full of latent antidrug messaging. This was a show that everyone in the audience (this guy included) paid twenty-five euros for.
    C. I am the most self-deprecating person I know. I’ve probably made a joke about tucking my tits into my shoes before, because that’s what I think is