Partying like a rockstar (should be illegal for a 29 year old)

So. The bachelorette party of the century. Not gonna lie, it was more fun than my own. Not that mine wasn't a blast... it was nice and low-key. The only thing low-key about this one was the plane ride there.

And now I shall state for the record: I'm too old for this shit.

It took me days to recover. Literally, my entire body hurt. Although, that probably had something to do with the strip-tease class.

Yup. Strip-tease. As in "try not to think about looking stupid while attempting to look sexy in front of a bunch of girls you just met".

To get in the um, mood, Rachel and I chugged a 6 pack of beer in mere minutes.

Here are the 9 of us, looking all lovely in our hot pink boas. Bride (Michelle) is in white, I'm in the gray hat and Rachel is in the camo hat. The rest of the girls I had just met the night before.

FAIL.

The format of the class was basically just a broken down "strip tease" routine that we learned. In my case, however, it was a big fat FAIL. See how I'm on a different part of the routine than the rest of the girls? That's 'cause I'm not sexy. Or coordinated. Sorry husband, you probably won't be seeing this routine reenacted in the bedroom.

Pole dancing at it's finest. ha

Remember the beer that we chugged? Apparently it kicked in after the class. Since there were no poles in the room, we made this pipe work. And we worked it. ha.

Ok, class over. I survived. It was fun and definitely an entertaining way to spend an hour.

Now onto dinner.

Here we are at Hub 51. Great location, awesome contemporary decor, okay drinks, decent menu. Blame Husband for turning me into food snob.

Me, Bride, Bride's sister.

Now here is where the night gets interesting...

After dinner, Rachel (who lives in Chicago) took us to her favorite bar in the city. LOVED it. They played seriously the best music. Lots of 80s and 90s. Perfect for us old people.

There also happened to be a bachelor party at the bar that night. I honestly don't remember any of the men from the party but I do know that we somehow snagged their blow-up doll. Because duh, no bachelorette party is complete without one.

And of course we had to pose with said blow-up doll.

Notice the stupid look on my face. I guess I decided to stop smiling... all of the pictures from this point in the night look like this. God, I'm a ra-tard. Let's call it my drunk face.

You might be wondering who the nasty boy (aka d-bag) in the front is. Asshole. That's who he is. He deserves no respect so I deem him Asshole. He was a little leech, following us around all night. At the very end of the night, he hugged Rachel, then came over to me for a hug. Ew. Did not want hug.

Now here's the kicker. Mid-hug, he proclaimed "I didn't dig you, but whatever".

Oh damn, 'cause I was really hoping he did. I'm mean, for real, this guy was a CATCH!

I should've punched him in the face. A black eye would've been an improvement on top of that sorry excuse for facial hair.

Ok, I'm almost done.

I'll leave you with one final picture. This was taken at approximately 4 in the morning. Yes, 4. am. Ugh. I haven't seen that hour in years.

Somehow, my eyes are still open. I'm a trouper, I am.

Back at Rachel's apartment at 5am, I managed to get my stuff packed and get a few hours sleep (although I forgot to remove my fake eyelashes and woke up with one stuck to my cheek) before miraculously not oversleeping and making it to the airport on time.

All in all (did I really just say that?) it was a great, yet exhausting weekend. And Michelle had a blast, which in the end is all that really matters.