going out

Last weekend, my husband and I, along with another exmo couple, got all gussied up and went out for a night of drinking and gambling. Well, it was only sort of gambling, because gambling is illegal in my state, so it was really a fund raising event and we weren't playing with real money. Which made it really fun to put down a $1000 chip and not really worry about that fact that I just lost $100 and $200 chips in the last five rounds, and perhaps I shouldn't be risking so much with my poor luck at black jack.

In the end, I had doubled my money, and discovered I wasn't so bad at black jack. But I was terrible at craps, and was too drunk to figure out anything more than "throw the dice and make sure they hit the back wall." But, hey, with drinks only $2.50, who can resist?

The event was semi-formal, Vegas style dress up, so I went out to a consignment store with my friend to look for dresses. There were some great "little black dresses," including some I should have considered because their long sleeves and long length, given the cold November temperatures. But I just couldn't bring myself to buy anything modest. It reminded me too much of my modest Molly Mormon high school days, looking for prom dresses. Partly in reaction to that, and partly because it's just the style, I wanted something slinky. I ended up with a nice spaghetti strap black dress with an interesting, layered hem-line. I forgot to get pictures, but just trust me when I say I was hot.

The night left me in a strange limbo between feeling naughty, but not feeling guilty about it. My true-blue Mormon family would be horrified at my dress, the alcohol, and the gambling. I'm so evil, aren't I?