I
made
it.
Can you believe it?!?! I actually was able to successfully pull off a Bachelorette Party for S.! Why would throwing a silly little party be such an insurmountable task?
So after sending out invites two weeks before the blessed event, 3 gals had RSVP'd...S. and I started to worry about if we'd have enough people to even throw a party!
We had all the makings for a classic bachelorette party: fruity alcoholic beverages, a plastic tiara, a bedazzled shot glass necklace, and other party favors that included a "checklist" for the bride-to-be.
Well, the heavens opened and out poured 15 lovely ladies to make this bachelorette party legit.
We went to a favorite little sushi place known for its "Kiss of Fire" rolls and Sake Bombs...That's when things got interesting.
On our little party checklist, one of the feats was to obtain a pair of guys underwear...The pair he was wearing...Well, S. found said underpants and the fact that they were from a Russian guy with a British accent named Vladimir makes these underpants magical. Well, that and that the magic had a skid mark. Gag.
Vladimir introduced S. to all of his gentleman friends and they all wrote down their phone numbers on S.'s ample bosom. This wasn't on our party checklist, but S. wasn't in a state to care at this juncture.
Moving on before areola-land was visited by the Russians, we stopped at a lounge that I'd never been to...Now this is no suprize to any of the three people that know me, because A) I cannot dance and B) I frequent a total of three "dive bars" about twice a decade...But that being said S. wanted to shake her ass, so S. got to shake her ass!
When we showed up it was only crickets and two go-go dancers occupying the dance floor.
Quick question: What the hell is so enrapturing about those BIG-ASS fuzzy boots that dancers wear? Do big fuzzy boots paired with lingerie make your ass look smaller? Modern mystery, I tell you!
Fifteen minutes later the place was PACKED, complete with local Jazz player Kyle Korver, who perched himself right in the middle of the joint so he could peruse his choices in ladies. Everyone was set on having S. get a pic or a dance or SOMETHING with Mr. Korver...but she just kept waxing on about how "cross-eyed" he looked. Ashton would be hurt...
All in all, I'm sure the girls (figuratively and literally) had a better night than the betrothed bachelor and his boys...which is all a Maid of Honor could hope for her little S.'s party.
made
it.
Can you believe it?!?! I actually was able to successfully pull off a Bachelorette Party for S.! Why would throwing a silly little party be such an insurmountable task?
- Girls can be catty and mean.
- S. works in a salon.
- Girls that work in salons seem to be blessed with the ability to be uber-catty and mean.
- S. has chosen "best friends" that care more about their spray-on tans than they do sincere, healthy friendships.
So after sending out invites two weeks before the blessed event, 3 gals had RSVP'd...S. and I started to worry about if we'd have enough people to even throw a party!
We had all the makings for a classic bachelorette party: fruity alcoholic beverages, a plastic tiara, a bedazzled shot glass necklace, and other party favors that included a "checklist" for the bride-to-be.
Well, the heavens opened and out poured 15 lovely ladies to make this bachelorette party legit.
We went to a favorite little sushi place known for its "Kiss of Fire" rolls and Sake Bombs...That's when things got interesting.
On our little party checklist, one of the feats was to obtain a pair of guys underwear...The pair he was wearing...Well, S. found said underpants and the fact that they were from a Russian guy with a British accent named Vladimir makes these underpants magical. Well, that and that the magic had a skid mark. Gag.
Vladimir introduced S. to all of his gentleman friends and they all wrote down their phone numbers on S.'s ample bosom. This wasn't on our party checklist, but S. wasn't in a state to care at this juncture.
Moving on before areola-land was visited by the Russians, we stopped at a lounge that I'd never been to...Now this is no suprize to any of the three people that know me, because A) I cannot dance and B) I frequent a total of three "dive bars" about twice a decade...But that being said S. wanted to shake her ass, so S. got to shake her ass!
When we showed up it was only crickets and two go-go dancers occupying the dance floor.
Quick question: What the hell is so enrapturing about those BIG-ASS fuzzy boots that dancers wear? Do big fuzzy boots paired with lingerie make your ass look smaller? Modern mystery, I tell you!
Fifteen minutes later the place was PACKED, complete with local Jazz player Kyle Korver, who perched himself right in the middle of the joint so he could peruse his choices in ladies. Everyone was set on having S. get a pic or a dance or SOMETHING with Mr. Korver...but she just kept waxing on about how "cross-eyed" he looked. Ashton would be hurt...
All in all, I'm sure the girls (figuratively and literally) had a better night than the betrothed bachelor and his boys...which is all a Maid of Honor could hope for her little S.'s party.
I only hope to aspire to your greatness when planning my sissy's bachelorette party, that happens to be this October (but in Chicago).
ReplyDeleteOh, the locale will exceed greatness in and of itself!! I wish I was going!
ReplyDeleteI think everyone enjoyed the ass shaking, Very much! Those girls were a blast. Thanks for a fun night out! xoxo
ReplyDeleteYOU were a blast! You made the night extra fun! Thanks so much for being there to celebrate with us!
ReplyDelete