Dear Livers,
I just wanted to take this time to apologize for the damage that we are about to cause tonight. It’s South Philly Fashionista’s bachelorette party tonight, and as is tradition, the friends of the bride must make the bride vomit. This, of course, will require that we also get wasted beyond imagination. There will be wine, and probably bubbles, and fancy expensive cocktails, and tequila, and shots. Probably Irish Car Bombs. And I might be the one responsible for buying those Irish Car Bombs. I might be, I might not be. We’ll have to see how the evening turns out.
But one thing is for certain, tomorrow morning we are all going to wake up wishing that we were dead. That’s what bachelorette parties are all about. Right? That and running around with penis straws trying to get dudes to hit on us. And maybe someone will make out. And maybe someone will touch a penis. And maybe someone will cry. Drunk girls are awesome.
So on behalf of myself, Boom Boom, Jersey Belle, and SPF I’d like to tell you that we love you, and we’re sorry. And if you’re going to make someone vomit, can you please make it be SPF?
Thanks so much!
Catherinette
Most of the bachelorette parties I’ve attended in me puking at the end of the night. The bride, not so much.
Um, I’ve never attended a bachelorette party IN me. I swear to God I wasn’t drunk when I wrote that comment. But you know what I meant.
Glad to know women everywhere are sharing the same experiences. Except the crying is not a maybe. Get more than 3 girls together, add vokda, and the tears are guaranteed.
First time to your hilariously honest blog. I’m going to guess that when you and your friends play the which-Sex-and-the-City-character-are-you-game, you’re the Samantha.
xoxo
-Girls With Prius Envy
My bachelorette party was so much tamer than this. But it involved good friends, a piano bar, and me getting up and singing Billy Joel. In my new, red, strapless dress. I had fun.