went to my first real bachelorette party this past weekend. wow. if the kinds of shoes in this picture are any indication, these bitches were scary. i have never seen so many girls in one place wearing tiny little dresses. prom is different. people wear long skirts, they look kind of classy even if they're typically hoes. these girls used this outing as an excuse to wear what my mother refers to as "the double jeopardy" outfit. low cut chest, high skirt. mom says you can wear one or the other, never both.
we took shots. ate penis cake. rode in a hummer limo and went to sugar bar.
as we were waiting for our vip hostess to escort us to our special floor i looked down the line at the girls. i thought, with the exception of me, it looked like we were waiting in line to pose for the side of the bus picture for girls gone wild. terrifying.
let me tell you. what a strange place. i have found at the ripe old age of 26, that there is no magic or mystery left at a dance club for me. it doesn't matter how dark or how loud the music is. i know what the place looks like at noon. i know what the people look like at noon. yucky.
i will not be fooled by creepy sweaty dudes with pin striped pants and mustaches. i don't care how many muscles you have. i basically played body guard to a cast of 15 drunk women for the two hours i was there. a girl from our party had so much of the free grey goose, she fell off the stage directly onto her knees. shit.
i had a pretty good time. but mostly i felt old.
it seems that sugar bar is a place where people go when they're about to get married. there were at least 4 other bachelorette parties there.
and the dudes? all of societies rejects. poor women. go out looking to have a last hurrah and they get: a burn victim, a dude in a wheelchair and four hispanic dudes about a foot shorter than them. all wearing their father's old spice. there. did i offend everyone? good.
they offended me.
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