The Conclusion

By the time 6:00 p.m. rolled around, the festivities were in full swing. The champagne was flowing and the only thing that stood between us and The Osiris Ball was a means by which to get there. We ordered the cab for 7:30p.m. in anticipation of it picking us up at a quarter 'til. (You were right, AE. Good call.)


It should come as no suprise that by this time, Olga, er, ummm, I mean Ulga had passed out. I'd like to think it was the after-effect of the good talkin' to I gave her, but it was probably the Wild Turkey and Tequila shooters. That was fine by us, because prior to passing out, she had started taking jabs below the belt. You know, talkin' 'bout how our mama's were on crack rock and our daddy's were sissies.

AE pulled me aside and said, "Dang J. Had we known this Traveling Bra was so crass and classless, we would have never invited her to Mobile."



"I know, but she's here now and we aren't going to let her spoil our good time. We've been looking forward to tonight for quite a while, so let's try to enjoy ourselves."

It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, but AE knew I was right.

"We need to start getting ready. The cab will be here before we know it."

There's nothing worse than having to press the pause button on a good time in order to take a shower to get dressed to go out, as AD commented earlier in the afternoon. And she is right. But the notion of not focusing all of our efforts on ensuring we were perfectly coifed was out of the question. Remember my post from earlier, this is THE Osiris Ball. Toenails and lips had to be painted, Spanx had to be stuffed, and bronzer had to be applied to the pasty Lebanese girl, right AB?

It's all part of the fun. We played everyone's favorite game - How-many-women-can-you-get-into-a-tiny-bathroom. We shared make-up tips. And we sarcastically gave pity to the bloated size 0 (not "oh", but ZERO). I have to pose the question: Why not go ahead and call it a size 1?

Just as AE predicted, the cab was late, but that allowed us plenty of time to rouse Ulga awake and help her into her float. If you've ever been tasked with carrying a drunk person, then you might have an idea of what we were dealing with. Actually, no. She's a bra so its not the same. Let's try this again. If you've ever been tasked with tolerating a drunk person, just know that dealing with a drunk bra is even more of a challenge. Especially this bra. She was so pissed off at everything, I don't think a positive thing ever came out of her mouth. She kept slurring, "She ain't all that." Finally I leaned over to BF and asked, "Do people even say that anymore?" BF shrugged her shoulders.

We got to The Ball with just a little time to spare. It actually worked out well, because I think of all nights, the term "Fashionably Late" was applicable. It's amazing how much attention celebrities get. I mean, I don't know about you, but I am star struck to see the local news reporter at the grocery store, so imagine the attention we were getting with Olga/Ulga the Traveling Bra in our company. People were snapping pictures left and right, shouting "Over here, Over here" "Just one quick picture for TMZ."

About that time, Ulga stood straight up in her float and launched two middle fingers straight into the air! "Here's a picture for ya, bitches! Now who's ALL THAT!" There we all were, mortified, right there on the steps of the Mobile Convention Center, just moments after the above picture was snapped. AD yanked her down to the floor of the float and promised she would regret it if she made such a scene again.

We were so humiliated that our own personal grand entrance was overshadowed by the spectical of Ulga, so we all made an effort to keep our distance from her for a while. We went to the bar and because the lines were so long, we were smart enough to get two drinks at a time. (Ain't Mardi Gras grand?) We ran into friends from highschool, former coworkers, and even made a new friend or two. We accessorized our already gorgeous gowns with the likes of feather boas, a safari hat, and the sloppy spill over of a drink or two. Mardi Gras Balls tend to get a little rowdy as the night progresses. We were on top of the world as we sang "Brass Monkey" by the Beastie Boys at the top of our lungs.

Then, from across the dance floor we saw a ruckus brewing. We ran up just in time to hear Ulga suggestively saying to this monkey, "I got somewhere special for you to put that banana."

Trouble was, that monkey had a date and that date was not too happy at such a forward advance.

"Who do you think you are, talking to my Monkey Boy like that?"

"Who are you and whatcha gonna do about it?" Ulga says to the companion of the monkey of which towered over her like the skimpy little bra that she was.

"I'll show you," the Monkey Date said. "Hope you know how to swim..."

We all looked around at eachother knowing this was about about to get ugly.

The Monkey Date of the Monkey Boy snatched Ulga up like a rag doll, drug her across the dance floor and onto the terrace of the convention center.

"This'll teach you to mess with my Monkey Boy!" The Monkey Date spread Ulga's straps to fashion her as her own sling shot and "Peooooooooooooow" launched her into the Mobile River.

Ulga landed in the water with a thud. Our jaws dropped.



"What are we going to do?" AMH said. "Fish her out of the river?"

"Heck no. One of those tug boat captains will find her and pick her up."

"But what if they don't? Where will she stay?"



AE and I turned to eachother and as if we had rehearsed it, started singing:


"U-L-G-A. You Ain't Got No Place To Stay!"

"You ULGA. Yeah, yeah. You ULGA!"

"Woooooo!"

***********************
The next day we recapped the evening over Bloody Mary's at Callaghan's, my favorite pub in town. We knew that although Ulga wasn't the classiest of bras, we were still in the presence of an interesting character. We hoped the best for her and hoped she could let go of some of that pent up anger. Like Don Henley said, "If you keep carrying that anger, it'll eat you up inside."


With our heads held high and our drinks in the air, we made a promise to make The Osiris Ball an annual event, with or without traveling underwear.