For CHARRRRTY!!!

(Harvesting old material)
Scene: Provincetown, MA
Date: Women’s Weekend 2004

I’d put in a long hard week at work. My beloved partner, Sue, and her best friend Ellen had managed to get out of work and went to P’town ahead of me on Thursday night.

I’m not as young as I used to be. Driving down alone after 6 p.m. is not as easy as it used to be either. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been daylight, or not raining like the day of Noah’s going-away party. But upon my arrival in P’town, I was a good sport! I got all dolled up, and accompanied my gals to the Crown, getting there just in time for the wet t-shirt contest!

The contest was a benefit for HOW (Helping Our Women). The fabulous crooner Suede and yuckster Vickie Shaw played emcees. They were a riot! A group of our pals were there, most of whom had made their way down earlier that day and were therefore well-rested and in complete control of their minds. Instead of competeing themselves, they kept encouraging me, STRONGLY, to compete. Vickie Shaw was no help. She kept purring in her southern drawl as thick as gravy, “It’s for CHARRRRTY!” Everyone KNOWS how I feel about CHARRRRTY. I am SUCH a SUCKER for a good cause. ;)

It clearly must have been the exhaustion from working all day and driving down “late,” as we old ladies like to say, because for a minute I actually thought I could do it! Of course, I was thinking was that as a contestant, you only had to stand there wearing a wet t-shirt. Yes, I have seen these before, so what the hell was I thinkin’?! Luckily, wiser heads prevailed (my partner's), and I remained a spectator.

Watching the event CLEARLY proved I could not have participated. Surely, some medical malady would have befallen me. For, after each gal was introduced, complete with an exotic new stage name bestowed upon them by Suede, Vickie Shaw approached the gal with a pitcher of ICE WATER. Let me describe that to you. It was a big cold pitcher filled with ice cold water and many large cubes of ice. Everyone knows how I constantly complain about being cold. It’s more than "being whiney." Extreme cold meeting certain body parts… causes… EXCRUCIATING… pain. ‘Nuff said.

Ms. Shaw slowly poured the contents of the pitchers, liquid and very cold solids, ON the t-shirts, IN the t-shirts, ALL over a wee, targeted little area of the t-shirts. Then, as if there were any possibility that they weren’t, Vickie… made sure… that... the gals… were… appropriately… watered. (No, I just will not type what your thinking.) Watching the ice cubes clunking down the insides of their t-shirts was enough to drain the blood from my face. It’s OCTOBER. In New England. The back door, right behind the stage was OPEN. I was crossing my arms mightly across my chest in sympathy pains. I would have freakin’ PASSED OUT if I had participated! And then there’s the whole part of… well… getting felt up by Vickie Shaw. Even more embarrassing, getting felt up by Vickie Shaw in front of a crowd of several hundred women. I’m sure she’s a lovely lady. I just don’t know her or the several hundred other women in the room that well.

My pals were coming to the conclusion that maybe being a comedian ain’t such a bad gig. More than likely though, they were just full of hot air! I’m not so sure that would be a duty… I… could… fulfill. Egads! Maybe, Lord forbid, I’m a bit more parochial that I thought!