Friday Night. Friends' birthday parties. Same night. One uptown, the other all the way downtown on the Lower East Side. The uptown affair was a chill night at Harlem Lanes, the black-owned bowling alley. The downtown affair was a sexy event at a night club where Eve, the guest of honor specifically required her girls to show up in a hot "freakum dress". Damn. What the hell am I going to do??? Both friends are notoriously late (I know I have nerve to talk...hahahahaha), so I knew showing up at the bowling alley at the predetermined time in appropriate bowling clothes would be a waste of time and an outfit. I could have changed clothes at the bowling alley into the outfit for the second half of my night but my fear of public bathrooms and the thought of having to take my shoes off and possibly touching the floor with my bare pedicured feet sent waves of nausea crashing against the walls of my stomach. That option would also require me to carry what would look like to everyone else, a booty bag. And since I had strict instructions from my best friend to be in Harlem the next morning, that wasn't an option. I could go to the bowling alley, stay for an hour, run home, slip into my freakum dress, jump in a cab and head downtown. That idea went just as quickly as it came as the sky continued to dump rivers of rain on the city sidewalks. Shit!!!!!!! This is when my celebritous status needed to kick in to overdrive (I haven't used my word celebritous in a while.Time to kick it up so I can get in the dictionary. hahahahahaha) Between my personal assistant, chauffeur, and stylist all I would have had to do was show up and leave them to worry about the mundane details.


So I did the only option available to me. I slipped on my gold stilettos and teal itty bitty freakum dress and called a car service to take me to the bowling alley. I tried to conceal my outfit with a slightly above the knee coat but no such luck. The split in the front of the coat revealed that there was even less material underneath. From the minute I passed through security at the bowling alley (hey its Harlem), I got the double take like "What the f**k?? I know this bitch isn't bowling in THAT??". Sigh!!! Yes I know my outfit is highly inappropriate for a bowling alley. But damnit I ain't bowling and I ain't staying. I figured in a very celebritous manner I would make an appearance, buy the birthday girl a drink, clink a glass with her, have my drink, then bounce. As I walked through the bowling alley looking for my friend and her party, I couldn't help but think about how many times I've seen someone inappropriately dressed at an event. How many times have I nudged my girlfriends and whispered "She ain't got no friends!" or "Is she serious?!!!" I couldn't help but think it because I saw the nudges. It would easy to dismiss them as haters since they couldn't wear what I was wearing or should I say shouldn't wear what I was wearing (and yes, people, there is a difference...hahahahahaha) but I understand where their judgement was coming from. Not knowing me, they probably thought I just showed up at the bowling alley dressed provocatively - simply for the attention. But if that were the case wouldn't I have opened my coat????

I finally found my friend by the bar in the lounge area. Apparently they were so busy at the bar, they decided to make her party in the lounge area and forget about bowling. While this area looks like any bar and lounge and nothing like a bowling alley, I never took my coat off. Short freakum dress at a bowling alley no matter how upscale the decor just doesn't work. Like a black man at a Klan rally it just doesn't work no matter how you try to justify it.

My original plan was derailed a little since by the time I got there the bday girl was already twisted but I did have a drink for her, mingled, collected a few business cards (always networking..hahahah), then called the car service to come back to pick me up. All in all I was there for the maybe 30 minutes. And in that time I had one drink, caught about 30 eye rolls, had 2 quite thuggish oh so not my type dudes grab my hand with a "Damn, ma. I'm sayin'", and overheard about 4 "What the fuck she got on??". Whatever! I was on a mission. It's not my fault it was impossible for them to know what my mission was.


On my way downtown, I freshened up the lip gloss and popped a mint. Fluffed the hair a little bit and spritzed a little smell good right behind my ear from the purse size spray. As soon as I was granted access inside, I flung open my coat. It was time to show this dress off!!! I checked my coat, and made my way through the crowd looking for my friends. This time I stood out but blended right in. I found my girls and the party was well under way!!!! In our freakum dresses, we dropped down low and swept the floor with it. I found a "soldier" on the dance floor to get me bodied. A few let their inner naughty girls out and those baby boys were so not ready because I know no made me lose my breath. What is it about the recipe of 1 freakum dress, 1 pair of sexy stilettos, a heaping of friends, a dose of good music, and a splash of guys to dance with that makes a rainy Friday night oh so worth it??? Was it the dress? Or could it be the friends??? It gotta be the friends!!!


Friday night. Two friends' birthday parties. One freakum dress. Judgement, stares, 2 steps, and cocktails. For my friends, it's always worth it.