Dirty Santa and the Hustler Bag

I was invited to the “Dirty Santa” party!

The girl who invited me was someone I met at a meetup.com event.

I know.  But I’m a go-getter and I had just moved to Georgia from Los Angeles.  When “make friends” is on my to-do list, I don’t mess around.  I was going to that party and leaving with five phone numbers.  When you’re in a new city, making friends is like dating.  It’s a numbers game. You have to throw people-spaghetti at the wall until something sticks.  Not to be confused with peen-spaghetti. That’s different.

I was excited – maybe I’m gonna fit in with these girls after all!


And because helpful unicorns follow me everywhere I go, I happened to be in Nashville the VERY NEXT day.

You know what’s in Nashville?



My favorite part is it’s located here:


I’m not joking.

I took my mother into The Hustler store with me because our family abandoned the notion of normal decades ago. Lookit she was a pimp in the 70’s – this is child’s play.

We decided to keep the gift on the mild side since I had only met the girl who invited me once, and I’d be meeting the rest of the girls for the first time.

Obviously pink handcuffs and a fetish crop were perfect.


The sales dude made it all fancy with tissue paper and put it in the signature Hustler bag! Awesome – I wouldn’t even have to wrap it.

On the day of the party I showed up in Marietta, which I was not familiar with at the time.  I had only heard stories.  It’s very small and quaint – Mayberry-ish.  There are two kinds of girls there.

Swingers who wear pearls.

photo credit:  123rf.com

photo credit: 123rf.com

And moms who bake all day and gaze lovingly at their family members during meals.

photo credit:  batcrapcrazyblog.com

photo credit: batcrapcrazyblog.com

I assumed my group was going to be the first bunch.

Let me be clear:  I’m not a swinger and I don’t wear pearls, but it sounds interesting.

The GPS told me I had arrived at my destination, so I parked in front of the traditional looking house and rang the doorbell ready to meet my new friends.  The woman who answered the door looked like she just stepped out of this magazine.

photo credit: waxingKara.com

photo credit: waxingKara.com

I introduced myself and didn’t even hear her name because I was so captivated by her make-up.  It was perfect.  The “natural look.”  The one that takes a minimum of 84 products and just as many minutes to pull it off.


To complete her Southern Lady look, she was wearing a crisp white button-down with a cardigan neatly arranged on top of it.

I have NEVER been able to wear a shirt under a cardigan.  Ever.  It gets all bunchy and stupid, and my boobs make me look pregnant.  I kind of hated her for a second.  But then I stopped because she was so pretty.

Meanwhile I was standing on her porch wearing black motorcycle boots and a leather jacket holding a Hustler bag.  Kind of like this:

photo credit:  stylestalker.com

photo credit: stylestalker.com

I wanted to lie and say I was at the wrong house, but then I spotted her pearls.

Ohhhhkay I see what’s happening here.  You’re not fooling me, Mrs. Carpool Swingerpants.


She invited me in and I followed the chatter to a perfect kitchen right out of The Stepford Wives.

Thankfully the girl who invited me flowed out of the crowd to greet me wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I exhaled a little bit, but then inhaled sharply when she shoved me into the center of the room and announced me to the group.

Everyone stopped talking and smiled at me warmly in that pretend way when an outsider has crashed a party.

photo credit:  teacups and couture

photo credit: teacups and couture

Then their eyes wandered down my person and landed on the Hustler bag.

There was a collective gasp, one “oh my,” and then giggling.

I was Mortified.  Yes, capital M.

The hostess, Miss Good Housekeeping (not Mrs. Carpool Swingerpants as it turns out), was kind enough to break it up with, “well come on in here then and you can put your gift with the others.”

I followed her into the wholesome living room where a virgin log was waiting to be burned in the fireplace.  In front of it, arranged just so, were all the other gifts wrapped in cheerful Santa paper adorned with tiny stuffed reindeer and crocheted candy canes.

I plopped my slutty Hustler bag down in the middle of them.

When I returned to the PTA convention in the kitchen I found my acquaintance, and started whisper-shouting at her.

me:  Oh my gaahhhhhd what is HAPPENING?!?!  You said this was a dirty Santa party!

her:   Honey, dirty Santa is same thing as a White Elephant party.

me:  What the FUCK is a White Elephant Party?

her:  It’s a gift exchange!  Everyone brings one, you draw numbers and then take turns opening them and everyone ends up with one that’s not the one they brought!  It’s so much fun that’s why I invited you!

me:  I can’t be friends with you.

her:  Oh don’t be silly.  What are you talking about?

me:  You let me bring handcuffs and a fetish crop to a suburban housewife party.

Her:  Oh noooo it’s totally fine!

me:  Please stop talking.

Then we noticed we were the only ones in the kitchen.  The two of us followed the murmuring into the living room where the rest of the party-goers were gathered around the fireplace…scheming on how to score the Hustler bag.

I left exactly six minutes later.

eZ6La - Imgur

So here’s what we can all take away from this:  the most southern and proper girl you know may be the one who wants handcuffs and a fetish crop.  The dichotomy is alive and well my friends.  Look for the best pot roast, the best cupcake, the most organized pantry, and the prettiest thank-you notes.  That girl? Has more energy than she knows what to do with.  We’d all be wise to harness it.

We’d also be wise to get ALL the details when invited to a party (that note was for me – I’m sure you smart people already do that).

I didn’t make any life-long friends at the Dirty Santa party,  but eventually I ended up with my own fabulous crew of less undercover Dichotomy Girls.

Robin, Jaime, Alana, Claire and Tamiko (not pictured)

Atlanta-based crew:  Robin, Jaime, Alana, Claire and Tamiko (sadly not in this photo)

These girls don’t quietly scheme about Hustler bags.  They say, “hand it over, bitch.”

They also make beautiful cupcakes.


  1. I have heard of white elephant parties, but even still I would have assumed a “Dirty Santa” party was code for naughty presents.

  2. Exactly-who calls that a “Dirty Santa” party?!

  3. Yep, I would have expected a stripper 😉

  4. Hilarious! I really enjoyed this.

    • Hooray – thanks so much! So sorry for the delay. It’s December and it’s sucking Dyson-style for those of us in the finance world right now. Promise to be a faster responder when this is all over next week : ) XO

  5. You should have stayed, had too much wine, and laughed your ass off when all those girls had a hair-pulling to get the gift you brought, which I have NO DOUBT was the best one there!

  6. Is that like the Rob Your Neighbor game that everybody seems to love but my wife and I hate passionately? Good for you to bring stripper club gifts. You’re tops in my book, Ms. Topia.

    • What is Rob Your Neighbor??? Rob noun or rob verb??? I probably hate it, too haha

      • Basically, a whole group of people bring a bunch of shitty gifts and one person brings an awesome one and you take turns trading for the good gift until somehow the last person standing has it and everyone else hates him or her. I’m pretty sure it’s why we don’t get invited to the wife’s side for Christmas anymore, but that’s their loss because I’m fun as fuck at holiday parties. Lol.

      • YES!!! So basically everyone wanted the Hustler bag and I sure as fuck wasn’t sticking around to see that cat fight. I only like those if there’s mud or jello involved. Wait. Whut?

  7. Best story ever. And I agree, I hate anyone who can pull off that blouse-cardigan thing without looking all bunchy.

  8. I love you! Can you move to New Jersey so I can have a dichotomy friend? All the women here are BIZARRE – they take all that energy and sleep with the trainers at the gym.How original. They go for the Real Housewives Of New Jersey dress-like-an-expensive-tramp look. If you’re going to look slutty, wear motorcycle boots and a leather jacket.

    And for the record,a dirty Santa party involves several men dressed as Santa. I’ll stop there, because it’s the comments and all. I couldn’t even read the description of the white elephant thing-ey; it gave me a migraine. And your gifts were fun. Next time include a dildo.

    So glad I found you! You. Are. Funny.

    • Thank you! We should totally hang out!!! Wow sleeping with trainers? File under: no thanks. If you’re gonna step out, it better be on a yacht. In my world. Anyway, yes I shall include a dildo next time, and you’re coming with. XO

      • Right? I’m with you, sister! Trainers are for amateurs – maybe the guy who owns the gym(s)?

        I see a road trip coming on…Atlanta can’t be that far from New Jersey. Can it?

        Ugh. The suburbs. I miss my New York City. It’s better here for Little Dude, but still…

      • Oh girl. Who you tellin’? I moved here from LA for my little one. Sounds like a road trip is totally about to happen. Half way and destroy DC?

      • Shit yeah! Have you ever seen the guys who guard the White House? hubba hubba

  9. The older you get, the more difficult it becomes to make friends. Take it from me. I moved from New York to the New Jersey suburbs about ten years ago and I honestly can’t say I’ve met anyone I’m close to. And I’m a fairly likable fellow! Just no chemistry.

    Listen…if you and Samara wind up in the same pub in New Jersey, you’d better invite me along. Seriously. Or, she and I can show you the less-savory part of Manhattan. Deal?

    • This is so true. It takes forever to find that chemistry. It also takes forever to get one outing on a calendar because most people our age have careers, relationships and children. It’s hard to build a friendship on two hours once a month. That said, I’m really dedicated to having women friends in my life, so I work at it. I’ve also been very lucky. It took a while, but I love my Atlanta crew. And yes, if I’m ever near NY or Jersey, I’ll be in touch. I still want to try that steak house you mentioned where the parents were letting their kids being total dooshes, and they only take cash : )

      • Do you suppose that, as adults, it’s easier for men or women to make new friends? It’s difficult either way but I wonder if one gender is more open to new friendships than the other. Or is it all just a big messy bouillabaisse and equally difficult?

        Peter Luger steak house in Brooklyn! I’d love you sit with you and chew the fat with you and Samara. What a blast that would be!

      • This is such a great question, and I really don’t know the answer. I think girls can be judgey and mean to outsiders, but I also think guys can be so broken by their wives and children that they can’t leave the house. Wow that all sounds really awful, but I’m telling the truth as I know it – in the south. So which is the lesser of those two evils? Who knows? What do YOU think?

      • I think the sisterhood is strong. My wife seems to have made friends fairly quickly when we moved out to the suburbs. I’ve been there 12 years and haven’t met anyone I have a chemistry with yet.


        It’s the dawn of a new year. Make a wish. You never know what can happen.

      • Hmmm. That’s weird to me! You seem like you would have a million friends. You’re probably too fabulous and vibe people out…Yes I will make a wish! And I finally posted something today – yay me. December is an ass-beater. Looking forward to the new year! Happy New Year early!!!

  10. Never in my life have I ever heard of a White Elephant party called Dirty Santa! I’d have gone with all kind of nasty props!

  11. That should have been a TACKY Santa party, not Dirty Sanchez.

  12. you’re weird…and also a hilarious writer 🙂
    I nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award because, like I said, nice blog.

  13. Hahahaha! I’m just impressed you made it six minutes. I would have immediately and completely awkwardly turned on my heels and sprinted out the door without a word the instant I saw all of those prim and proper gift bags.

    Also, I think being able to wear a blouse properly under a cardigan is a sign of witchcraft, because it is impossible without a heavy dose of spell casting to pull that feat off.

  14. It could have been worse. You could have brought anal beads. 🙂

  15. Oh my, and to think I signed up for Meetup last week.

  16. onanotherfreakingmission says:

    Wow. Your blog took forever to load on my stupid connection, but I waited it out. The little yellow girl may have made me pee a little. She loaded fast. In fact, I kinda scared my pup by yelling “wha-ho!” as she jumped at me. And then I read. And giggled. And may have peed a little more. Probably best to read you in the bathroom next time. And that’s EXACTLY how I’d interpret a “Dirty Santa” party. Stupid pretty suburban housewives with clean houses ‘n shit.

    • Hahahaha – oh we’re totally super-pee-buds now – hooray! I’m sorry you peed a little, but also happy. Is that bad? Thank you for agreeing with me on how dumb that party was. What was the dumbest party you ever attended? C’mon you know you have tales…

      • onanotherfreakingmission says:

        Now, if I shared those, how would I entice you back to my blog? Hmmm? Well, besides the obvious answer of writing more of my idiotic antics. Still. 😉

        OK, OK…one. My sister is really into pow wow’s and shit for her Indian side thingie. I don’t even ask anymore. We have Indian blood, but she went overboard and made it a lifestyle. Anyway, she lured me to some pow-wow’s and they were fun. But after one specific pow wow, a couple threw a party at their tent. It was a good time and everyone started dancing. I got a little tipsy – just a tad, mind you…TOTALLY not my fault – and thought the song they were playing and chanting sounded familiar. So, I started singing lyrics to another song that was popular at the time. I don’t even remember what it was, but it was a poppy radio hit. So, I’m there with a third drink in my hand, suddenly grinding and gyrating like an idiot, when these feathered-headed dudes come over and joined in. Now, that’s not how they dance…but apparently they knew the video or liked what they saw, because they picked it up. By the time I was finished wailing the wrong song, I had 4 men around me, several fancy dancers (I think that’s what they’re called) hopping about, my sister was crying from laughing so hard, my ex husband cheered, and I know at least one person recorded the entire thing. They probably show it now as a precaution for why not to let tiny white chicks drink at pow wows!

        Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.

  17. This was brilliant!
    Seriously, you just made my list of “awesomely wonderful, brilliant human beings”, Molly. Your misadventure was one of the best reads I’ve enjoyed all year!
    Well done!

  18. Oh my gosh I love love love love love this story– I was laughing the whole way through and now I wan to have a truly NAUGHTY SANTA party so that you can show up in your leathers with a hustler bag. Seriously, I died when you talked about awkward cardigans and this: “I kind of hated her for a second. But then I stopped because she was so pretty.” Aaaahahahha well done!

  19. Lol, eclectic bunch of folks on Church Street, huh? I remember as a tourist ending up there and wanted to run away, yet I just couldn’t do it. Interesting area.

  20. But somewhere, there’s a Southern Belle’s husband who thinks very very highly of you, and would love to say thanks!

  21. Reblogueó esto en luisa freyre propone.

  22. You left 6 minutes later – and 7 minutes later, the REAL Dirty Santa party began. Just because the presents are wrapped in Santa wrapping paper doesn’t mean that the presents aren’t from the Hustler store. 🙂

  23. Oh my god I love this! I would have thought the same. How does ‘dirty santa’ mean ‘let’s all exchange gifts?’. If someone invited me to a dirty santa party I would have come in my underwear and a santa hat.


  1. […] decided that, if I couldn’t bring a gift everyone would be fighting over or one so funny people would pee their pants laughing, then I didn’t want to join in. You […]

  2. […] For an example of her inappropriateness, I’ll refer you to her post “Dirty Santa and the Hustler Bag.” I also highly recommend her tales about life under the big […]

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