Nights out with deserving ATMS are certainly one of My favorite things. In each city I frequent there are at least a few devoted who make sure to take Me out and roll out the red carpet whenever I arrive. In places I make more of a home, My locals make sure I get out when I feel like it without any harm coming to My own wallet.
About 2 weeks ago I downed a LARGE Friday night cocktail of my favorite things; a night out with the pleasure of emptying 2 of My piggybanks, humiliating them by choosing the tunes they belted out during karaoke, singing Myself and laughing at it, vodka bottle service in our private music studio, and tormenting the one who passed out 1st as I drank them under the table and forced them to keep up......all in the company of a fellow Goddess who's not yet in the virtual world but brings men to their knees for 2000 miles in every direction.
The ATMs were started with proper gin & tonics, even allowed Bombay Sapphire, and We Goddesses ordered a bottle of blueberry Stolichnaya to mix with cranberry juice. Our room was explained to us, and the minute our 1st drink was done, We had the boys order another for themselves and had them sing John Denver songs....while they were sober enough to feel the true pain of that command.
After 3 gin and tonics they were switched to well vodka and sprite. I was considerably nicer than My last forced intoxication session, letting them at least have ice and mixers. Our playlist moved to Abba, Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls, music that I generally LOATHE but LOVE to hear drunk boys sing.
Between My fellow Goddess and I, We drank most of the bottle of Stoli. We poured doubles to kill it off. It was time. The piggybanks were ready for "Bohemian Rhapsody." For every verse they missed or messed up they had to do a shot of sambuca.....because we felt EXTREMELY cruel.....and We stopped every few times to let them have a water/bathroom break and ordered a little munchie food.....
Around the time of Our 2nd bottle of Stoli, when the ATMs were staggering around in a sambuca haze, we began singing Ourselves, amusing ourselves with the 90's grunge We are a LITTLE too young to have fully embraced the way We would've liked.
The picture on top is what became of the weaker paypig when allowed to sit for awhile. Since he passed out fully, the rest of us ganged up and shoved fries in his mouth; this picture was taken after he was passed out a full half hour. It became fun to lay fries in his mouth in a sort of Jenga-like game where whoever made the fries fall out was subject to truth or dare.....and then more fries were stuffed in when the task was completed. There weren't a fatal amount in his mouth, but certainly more than it appears in the picture.
Eventually he woke and We forced him to eat the soggy, cold, half-masticated fries. The best part was when they got the bill. 4 hours=$500, terrible headaches, and hangovers in the making. And in 1's case, a silly picture, ketchup stained shirt, and a taste of fries in his mouth for the next 24 hours.
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