- A friend of ours announcing to the bride-to-be's future mother-in-law that she was a "very sensual girl" (this same friend also asked my friend if she takes baths with her fiancee... in front of her mother)
- Seeing men at the bar wearing honest-to-goodness denim overalls (similar to the ones I wore circa 1995 in college)
- Walking in on a girl from the party taking a BM at the first bar we were at (umm, lock the door, please)
- 2o minutes later, seeing another friend's hoo-hah when the door swung open as she was going to the bathroom
- Forcing our friend Shannon to make a cake for us so we could eat it after hours (there's no Panini's in Findlay, kids)
- My friend Nikki gorging on leftover shrimp cocktail late nite, deciding that she was going to "melt a tub of butter and eat it like it's lobster" (actually, we were all grateful that she didn't try to use the fruit-flavored sex lube "Dick Tasty" that she had given to the bachelorette earlier that nite)
Aaaaaand, yet another ridiculous bachelorette party under my belt. And you would be so proud of me. I did not give my number out to any chefs or lawyers. (In fact, I'm not sure there even are any chefs or lawyers in Findlay.) I didn't do the robot. I didn't even black out (even though I was drinking blackout and tonics).
OMG, am I actually growing up? Say it ain't so!