In honor of Valentine's Day, I'd like to tell you about the time we got drunk and re-pierced my sister's belly button.
No sappy V-day crap here. (Although I did wake up to flowers and the cutest note ever. But nobody wants to hear about that. Give the people what they want!)
It was an otherwise ordinary night: stuffing our faces with snacks, guzzling orange dream martinis, snorting cocaine off of prostitutes..
Those orange dream martinis must have gotten the best of us, because my sister started showing off her newly toned midriff like a pre-teen Britney Spears. We were all super proud of her, because she's worked super hard and lost a TON of weight for her upcoming nuptials, so we were cheering like boys at a strip club.
I happened to mention how sad it was that she allowed her belly button piercing to close up after high school, and that she would be proud of it now.
She must have concurred, because before I knew it, I was racing upstairs to select a BB ring and slamming cupboards in search of rubbing alcohol. (Totally legit, this piercing operation.)
Suddenly, we were standing in the kitchen; she with her top raised like Spring Break '98 and me with my serious surgeon face on.
And then... it was done. And she had a piercing again! I know I must have been drunk, because I didn't throw up watching it. Now, we are pierced twinsies again.
And so, kiddies, what did we learn on this most auspicious occasion of love day? Don't get drunk and open up a piercing shop in your kitchen like white trash hillbillies.