The One Time I Took My Shirt Off In Public So I was cruising around the blogworld, trying to stop watching too much Buffy, and I came across The Accidental Bitch's proud declaration that she drank rum from a shovel.

I feel inadequate.

One time someone in a supermarket checkout line said I "looked rough," but that was when I had my nose pierced and it was possible he was being sarcastic. I went from shy high school violet to The One Who Can Hold Her Jack Daniels to being somewhat paranoid about running into one of my students everywhere I go, so the badass factor has never been great.

But two years ago I got--let's say "drunk"--at my school's end-of-year pub crawl. I took the train home with my roommate and her boyfriend, both fellow teachers. We walked the two blocks up to our (dimly lit, suburban) street and he took his shirt off. I complained loudly that it wasn't fair that guys can take their shirts off in public.

He said, "You can take your shirt off."

"No I can't," I said, exasperated. "I'm carrying all this food [from the diner where we had tried to soak up our boozy tummies]!"

"I'll carry it," he said.

My bluff had been called, so I handed him the takeout container of cold greasy fries and took my shirt off. He hooted and my roommate laughed. We only had about half a block to go, it was 2 AM, and our street had one light. I walked home in my bra and jeans.

Oh yeah. I'm bad.  ¶ 9:04 PM