I don’t like being referred to as a Party Girl. I’m pretty sure it’s code for ‘silly hussy-pants’ or ‘dumb slapper’ or even worse ‘alcoholic trash bag’ – none of these are particularly pleasant but god-damn they can be a hellova lot of fun. It’s true that no good story ever started with someone eating a salad, and Party Girls just wanna have fun. We laugh at ourselves and each other over our ridiculous escapades and drunken exploits. I’ve had […]![]()
