Peter Pajamas, my childhood best friend, walked a catawampus path: class clown in elementary school, outspoken misfit in high school, lethargic druggie in college, all of which led him to submerge himself in the baptismal waters of BornAgain-ism before the age of 30. Several moons later at my drag karaoke-themed bachelorette party, I was surprised and delighted to see the likes of Peter, who had clearly been born yet again to take the stage as Tawdry Hepburn with the quintessential little black dress, pearls, and long cigarette holder dangling from his signature aureate smile.
After the tawdry events of Tuesday eve, Cindy submerged herself in an ice bath for 16 hours straight to numb the creeping feelings of disappointment and shame. Not because she wanted to. But because she could.
Sister Peter Paul and Mary decided it was time to leave the nunnery and submerge herself in any and every tawdry hobby, event and scandal she could find. The first thing she did was go to the toy store and look under a Ken doll’s pants to finally see what a weiner looked like. She was disappointed.