AAAAAAAAH!  I am so excited! (That was a scream.)

On the subject of my personal fame… one I like to write about maybe a bit too often, I am a character in a non-fiction thriller.  A “bad boy” pal of mine, from my college days of selling shots for extra dough, just got his book published.  He penned it in the joint, I don’t know if that’s a cool thing to call it, but I am trying to sound cool.

It’s the story of the events that lead to his arrest and incarceration.  Events, which I was apparently in the middle of and was completely oblivious to.  Look, as you’re considering what kind of crew I hung out with, let’s not forget I’m a nice Jewish girl from the ‘burbs who literally saves worms from burning on the sidewalk.  So, without giving anything away, I’ll say he was not in the clink for murder.  To be quite honest my copy is on the way, so I don’t know all the details.

This sparks a story of my own that I did not think I would tell because it could ruin my pristine image.  But, what the hell, I’m sure I’ve done that already on this blog.  Between the nose picking, the yelling at other people’s kids, and telling my daughter’s nursery school teacher that I got Clifford the Big Red Dog drunk.

I was, as I said, a shot girl at University of Miami.  We’re talkin’ test tubes on a tray kinda stuff.  Unlike the shot girls in some of the local bars, I was clad in a lot more than lingerie.  I was pulling in like $200 a night, which in the 90’s was more like a grand.  Okay, maybe not quite, but good money for a 20 year old still getting an allowance.  Said friend was a bartender there. He was one of the few people I was friends with that didn’t go to school with me and he was a bit out of his mind, which made him even “funner.”  He watched out for me and regularly reminded my boyfriend, how lucky he was. Then when my boyfriend would run off to some party he would chivalrously walk me to my car so I wouldn’t be in a dark parking lot alone.

I can’t say his influence was all good.  He was an integral part of the one illegal thing I think I’ve ever done.  I mean ever, I don’t even think I shoplifted a lipstick when it was in fashion to do so… you remember 7th grade?

We noticed that when someone finished their test-tube they usually put it back on the tray.  In a sinister plot to up my nightly take, he would make me a flask of shots to refill those used tubes with in the bathroom.  Before I go on, I must explain how even writing this offends me now.  Not because of the crime, because I am such a germ phobe. To think I would allow people to unwittingly drink out of second hand test tubes that had been in a germy bathroom, ugh.  If I did it now, I would have to find a much more sanitary way to swindle the bar out of their 3 bucks a shot.

My other evil ruse was to fill the back row of shots with water. That was my personal reserve. Often drunk people like to get the shot girl drunk. I was not a fan of this as; A) I’m a lightweight and B) Who wants to be drunk while working? So, for $3, which was usually $5 with tip, you got the pleasure of sharing a shot with me and watching me make some over reactive wincing face as if downing straight vodka. Then maybe I’d high five you, or do a “woo” to reflect how it burned on the way down. What, you should get what you pay for.

I was pullin’ in more like $400 a night and still sold the most shots, by the management’s count. I’m sure I spent it on all frivolous items that were hip in the 90’s, from vintage 501s to those trendy micro-fiber body suits by BCBG and Bisou-Bisou. I recall a few overly chunky heels and a lot of flannels from Structure. Flannels, that looked “perfect” tied around the waist of some shredded jean shorts with a man’s braided belt, and a baby tee from Contempo. I know, you’re thinking, stealing shot money is not the only crime I committed in the 90’s.

This is my confession, I hope you forgive me. I will send the links to the book and review it ASAP.