In the wee early hours of my 33rd birthday, after two drag shows and several hours of topless dancing (topless guys, not gals), a few friends and I discovered the answer to the age old question:
If a minivan of thirty-something women leaves da club at 2 am traveling 5 miles per hour on a seriously flat tire, how many gays will it take to change the tire?
One? Seriously? One's no fun. Don't even bother.
Two? Maybe. But one of them must take his shirt off.
Three? One to jack, one to screw and one to read the manual?
Yeah, okay. If you want the tire put on backwards.
Four? Could it possibly take four gays to change a tire?
Yes! Four it is!
So the next time it's your birthday and the middle of the night and you've gone way too long without nursing your baby and your boobs are about to explode and it's freezing cold and raining and your designated driver gets a flat tire in her minivan, you will need to call four gays to come to your rescue. (Note - this probably only works with four incredibly sweet and generous gays...it is not a hard and fast rule.)
How many semi drunk, up past their bedtime, thirty-something women does it take to change a tire? I don't know. But it's definitely more than I was with!