Thursday, 26 October 2006

This is your Bridget on drugs.

Why did I promise to write about this again? Oh yes, distractionism.

    Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
    And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
    The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
    we'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
    And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
    in the VIP with the movie stars
    Every good gold digger's
    Gonna wind up there
    Every Playboy bunny
    With her bleach blonde hair

    And we'll hide out in the private rooms
    With the latest dictionary of
    today's who's who
    They'll get you anything
    with that evil smile
    Everybody's got a
    drug dealer on speed dial, well
    Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar

I'm not known for living fast, believe it or not. My highs are so high and the lows are so damn low that as long as I have enough time in between to get my bearings, life is pretty good. I say I don't have regrets, maybe I lie. Maybe I'm just as average as everyone else. I don't go seeking out excitement.

No, that couldn't be it.

Maybe I just have enough good and bad memories to to call it an interesting life so far.

I know I'll never be famous, but I'll possibly never be boring either, at this rate.

The one night I went out on a limb and did two things I swore I would never ever do (that would be a)karaoke and 2)getting high) turned out to be a defining moment in my life. Oddly, it was the same self-destructive summer that I first slept with Jake. Maybe it was some combination of the freedom of the time we were in and my need to prove to myself that even though I had a one-year old baby, I could still have fun. Maybe it was just the calm before the storm.

In any event, it was a rare warm summer night in which everyone was present for a loosely organized pub crawl. We were celebrating a whole bunch of milestones in the group. Cole and I had a babysitter for the whole night. In a rare show of bravery I partook in the pot brownies being passed around, usually I ignore that stuff. I had two. Jacob took a pass and was the designated driver/responsible adult for the night (he usually preferred to be in that role). I felt so good that night. I don't think I've ever felt like that before.

I probably never will again. It's an artificial confidence.

Within a few hours we wound up at a karaoke bar, this after hitting a Mexican place first for far too many margaritas and tequila shots. The boys talked me into doing a song, something I normally wouldn't do but I felt as tall as everyone else right then and so I did it. I chose to do On my Own, from Les Miserables, which started with jeers and booing from the crowd, because they wanted me to sing a Veruca Salt song. But I've been pretending to be Eponine in the shower since I was a teenager, and I knew I could pull off that song. By the end of it everyone was stone still, in rapt attention. They ate it up. My ego found its own spotlight to shine in.

I enjoyed a lot of accolades from my own friends, who previously had heard me warble a few off-key notes of Happy Birthday or the occasional Christmas carol. Singing isn't something I usually do well. The admiration from the strangers in the bar was completely unexpected though.

Most of the crowd followed our group down to the next bar, a college bar where they were having a Coyote Ugly dance off type competition (the movie had just come out) for a $1000 prize.

Oh please. I love to dance. But not up in front of a crowd like that. More tequila is definitely required.

So after twenty minutes of convincing (because they thought it would be funny to watch me embarrass myself), liquid courage prevailed and I said Fuck it. I grabbed a cowboy hat off some guy I didn't even know and joined the line up on top of the bar. I gave it everything I had. This is how the cowboy hat lap dance almost sort of maybe possibly got it's start. There's my power trip. Everyone was watching me dance. The little blonde right smack on the centre of the bar.

And so I brought down that house too. Free drinks for the winner and a solo encore performance was requested. So I got back up there after two more shots and ground it down. Guys I didn't know started throwing twenty dollar bills at me and yelling for me to take it off before the end of the first song. Cole and everyone else I had come with were transfixed, Cole being rocked by the occasional appreciative slap on the back or congratulatory nudge. I was just starting a second song when a dazed-looking Jacob (back in full responsible adult mode now) abruptly lifted me off the bar and flung me over his shoulder. He was booed but he didn't care. I was getting a little wild (okay, a lot) and the whole bar had erupted. He carried me out while the DJ announced that Bridget was leaving the building, and to give her one final round of applause for being the hottest contest winner that the club had ever seen. I blew kisses and collected the prize money that was passed to me over Jacob's shoulder while everyone hollered and stomped and clapped the whole way out. By then my ego had simply exploded all over the place.

Yay me! (waves tiny, inebriated fists).

We got outside and Jacob put me down and asked if I was okay. I said I was fine through my flushed cheeks and wavering brightness. The other guys, Cole included, were just standing there, still dumbstruck because they had just seen something they never saw before. I was having fun. I was completely wasted and I could still perform a routine that left all my male friends with unwelcome kickstands and wet dream material for the rest of their lives and all my female friends with jealous bents that we never managed to ever overcome, much to my eventual (sober) shame.

And hey! Rent money for two whole months!

I was told I passed out in the truck on the way home, holding my prize money tightly while they all talked about the fact that they had no idea that I could do that., I usually kept myself reigned in. I was the sweet girl up until that night. Then I became the sexy one. A slippery slope indeed.

I wonder if-

Hey, Jake, remember that dance contest?

Who could forget that, Bridge?

You think anyone has??

Trust me, no one will EVER forget that night.

This, THIS is the reason that whenever any of my friends bring baked goods over I'm unduly suspicious and beg off sampling them. It's not because of the whole eating thing, it's because of that night when I got high and danced on that bar and learned a few things about myself in the process.

Like how to harness that kind of power, the one that left everyone dumbstruck.

And how incredibly easy it is to embarrass the hell out of myself. Which is why I never touched drugs again.



    I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me.
    ~Hunter S. Thompson