chicks getting ready to go out together can turn into crazy competitive bitches. it’s hilarious. i lived with five women in an off-campus house our senior year of college. we had one bathroom. we’d drink wine and take an hour or so getting ready before hitting the bars or parties. we’d model outfits, and inevitably one of us would be wearing a cleavage-heavy top, or sluttily tight jeans, thus sending the rest of us away to up the ante on our own getups. we needed more eye make up, or we, too, had to straighten our hair. it was like ─ i see your angora and i raise you a miracle bra! before you know it we’re all walking out in garters and platform heels. we’d change outfits 50 times only to end up with the first thing we put on. and then the most high maintenance gal in the bunch would still be doing her makeup when the rest of us were ready to leave. we’d roll our eyes, ask how much longer she was going to be, and then sneak off to switch tops again and apply another coat of lip gloss. chicks!