the bachelorette

This weekend I celebrated the final rite of passage for any blushing bride, the bachelorette party. My good friend M is getting married in a week and a half and like any friend would do, we threw her a party to try to get her as drunk and stupid as humanely possible. As luck would have it, she got a cold the day before and was not happy, but she announced that the show must go on and we did as we were told.

We met up at her friend's house for a cocktail hour and snacks and some pg-13 rated games and gifts. We then headed out to Cleo's, her favorite beer garden down the street and had some drinks. And then headed over to the six corners to hit up some bars for some dancing.

As luck would have it, the first bar we went to, Crocodile had an entire basement to dance in, it was a stark and concrete with a few tables and a bar, complete with only dance music from the early 90's. At one point "Ghetto Superstar" came on, as did a rush of memories of dancing at Rick's in Ann Arbor, begging the DJ to play it, because up until that time, no song had ever resonated with a bunch of suburban white girls quite like that one did. Man alive did that make me feel old, I mean that was over ten years ago. Ugh, does that make me one of those women that is past her prime with her bra strap hanging out of too tight of clothes talking about the olden days? Possibly. But one shot later, I felt better.

I stayed out till 2:30 am, which to my internal clock is equivalent to pulling an all nighter. But all and all, it was a fun night; I think the bachelorette had a fine time, we didn't have to pay cover anywhere, and I didn't get drunk (which was definitely a bonus the next day). I think her cold may have been a blessing in disguise, because I was worried all week as to how hungover I was going to be. But I suppose, I shouldn't get too ahead of myself, the wedding is next weekend and there is rumor of free booze, so I shouldn't start the back pats quite yet.