Living The No Bra Life
I crank the music up while I get ready for a night out dancing. I will listen to anything – it’s just gotta be loud, throbbing & pulsating. I’ve gotta be able to wiggle my ass & loose myself as if in a sex seizure. I turn up all the lights so I can admire my dance skills as I do a reverse strip tease, sliding into stretch denim & stilettos.
My ‘get ready’ music gets me ready to binge on the glory of being the queen of the dance hall. It sets the tone for the mindful indulgence of booze & unskilled but willing party boys.
When crazy awesome Patrick invited me to a dance party at his place, I made sure to get especially hot & ready. Pussy Riot got me ultra pumped to get up on that living room table & shake the shit out of his Section 8 housing.
Uncle Awkward’s play list consisted of No Bra on repeat. The first time I was like, “huh?” The second through eighth time I was playing beer pong with vodka so I didn’t care. But after two hours, I was ensconced in the chanting. All the ladies started taking off their clothes; it was a subliminal sex song & I was its slave.
Doherfuckher, Doherfuckher, Doherfuckher … So I did. On repeat.
Tomata Fortunata (Swellco & Swellco 69004d