T.A. is also known for her sharp witted humor and is a wealth of knowledge when it comes to the mechanics of writing. She has a big heart and shares the laughter by sprinkling her humor all over social media for the rest of us to enjoy.
It is such a pleasure to have this talented lady on my site today. Please welcome T.A. with lots of hugs and comment love!
Bachelorette parties age as we do
A haiku to give you a sneak peak:
Parties remind me
Hangovers can kill old ass
Send gingers and naps
This past weekend, my friends and I celebrated one of our best friend’s upcoming nuptials. It was a wonderful weekend, and exactly what we all needed. As I sit here and think about what happened this past weekend and what happened when I was in my 20s at bachelorette parties, I see some distinct differences.
When I was in my 20s and we’d throw bachelorette parties:
Goal: Get as inhumanely wasted as possible. We’re talking one-eyed open, maybe wearing someone else’s clothes by the end of the night schwasted. And here’s how:
Step One: Give the girl a sash and a crown. She’s the princess for the night and everyone should know. Plus there might be a way to get some free drinks out of the deal.
Step One A: Start off by drinking. You are broke, so you probably only have very cheap beer and liquor. It’s ok. It’ll mix well with the swill you’re going to have when you get the watered down drinks at the bar.
Step Two: Give the girl a large penis thing, preferably a lollipop. Don’t worry if she drops it at some point. This is pretty much guaranteed. If you’re a real friend, you won’t let her pick it up. If you’re a friendemy- well, you do you boo boo. I won’t judge you—other than to give you the side-eye if you ever offer me food or drink.
Step Three: Dress like your vagina needs its own air conditioning. This could also help with more drinks. Also, your boobs probably need some air, too. Make sure you’re wearing enough clothing to cover a miniature Chihuahua, because modesty, people. Modesty. Oh and heels. Very tall heels that make you look like spindly leg gazelles---this can help with the drinks.
Step Four: No one is left behind, even the stupid one who gets too wasted and starts dancing on tables. Yank her intoxicated ass down, take a shot on the way out and trudge on.
Step Five: Bar crawl. You are in college, or still living in your college town. You’re going to find the main street that has all the bars on it. And you’re going to EVERY SINGLE ONE. You will loudly proclaim that you’re getting married. You will get free shots and drinks. You will dance like Ariel first learning how to walk on her new legs.
Step Five A: You will woo. You will woo so hard. All the woos.
“That cute guy just bought us shots,”
“I fell down!”
“I think I peed myself!”
Step Six: Make it home. This will be the fuzziest portion of the night. This may involve losing shoes, sketchy cab rides or the friend arm-to-arm linked up, stumbling down the street like drunken sailors. You may pass out at the front of the door before making it inside. It still counts.
Step Seven: Wake up in the morning feeling refreshed. Recount all the great details, giggle a lot and have a lovely breakfast.
(Note: In my 20s, smart phones were a dream, Instagram hadn’t been born yet and YouTube hadn’t debuted. So all of this is from hazy memories.)
Now when you’re comfortably in your 30s and you may have some new things to consider like: kids, ex-husbands, terrible jobs and a sagging jawline, your priorities and steps change.
Here’s how it goes when you’re in your 30s+:
Goal: ESCAPE! Just get me outta here. Both last weekend’s and the party in two weeks are both a few hours away from home for a weekend. (Coincidence? Puh-leaze)
Step One: You have picked women (and sometimes men because it’s the 2000s people) who you hate the least to spend time with you. You’re going somewhere comfy, where you don’t necessarily have to wear high heels and your vagina will be covered. If you wear heels, fine, but that’s on you. The rest of us are in flip flops and sandals.
Step Two: Stock up on food, because we are at the point in life where comforts start on the stove. Throw in some healthy stuff so you won’t feel like a total glutton. Forget to eat the healthy stuff.
Step Three: Drink. You are older and have jobs now, so the drinks will be of better quality, mixed more in mind for tasting delicious rather than drunkenness. There will also be less drinks. We are going to drink like responsible, smart adults. We are not in our 20s anymore. No more wooing.
Step Four: Go to a bar…at 1 in the afternoon where we can listen to free music and then head back to the retreat before nightfall.
Step Four A: Have one friend who brings her badass Doctor Who flask to the bar and make sure she forgets to put it back in her purse. When she is reprimanded by the bar manager, make sure you all laugh at her and make fun. Make sure that friend is me. #Whovian #noshame #IcantbelieveImwritinghashtags
Step Five: Make a bunch of plans to do things…and then spend of your time reminiscing, eating delicious food and drinking. Because plans, schlans, you’re here to relax.
Step Six: Forget about Step Three…oddly enough you still will drink only half as much as you would have in your 20s.
Step Seven: Wake up the next morning feeling like you may have died in your sleep. You are in purgatory, and it lives in your brains and your tummy. Make sure there’s at least one friend who is annoyingly not hungover and also a morning person. Glare at her, or at least try to, but your eyes are so dry that you can’t really close them. Lay on the very comfy couch and moan and groan. Receive no sympathy. Eat comfort food like sausage gravy and biscuits. Drink it with the elixir of the hangover gods, ginger ale. Take a nap.
Step Seven A: Do all of this again, except embarrass yourself in some other way, because you guys booked this joint for the weekend because ESCAPE.
Since this is the updated version of the bachelorette party, there are pictures available. However, I will not post them, because I value my life. Let’s just say, there was a hot tub, a cowboy hat and cupcakes filled with bourbon. Cuz we know how to party.
What differences have you seen in bachelorette parties from your 20s to now? Let me know in the comments. I’m going to lay down now and rest up for round two. Feel free to say a few prayers for me to make it to July.