My bachelorette party made me feel like Sally Field AND Ke$ha AND Blanche Devereaux. Future sister-in-law Carrie brilliantly planned a two-phase party to maximize the potential for girl talk and excited giggles without sacrificing any drunken debauchery and vis versa.
For phase 1, we visited La Casa Narcisi winery a few miles outside town. We started with a wine tasting, where I got to instruct my friends in the ways of incredibly pretentious wine sampling before they decided they really just wanted to drink sangria.
Then we sat outside and gossed and sipped and ate really delicious food. My friends gave me really fantastic presents like lingerie and books about sex and sex dolls made of molding clay. At some point it started to pour rain, but we were very quickly moved to a new covered table. [The service was amazing! I highly recommend this winery for people in the Pittsburgh area.]
Then we broke for disco naps and costume changes. I switched from the adorable little white dress that my friend Annie lent me (saving me from panic when the dress I had planned to wear turned out to not fit properly) to a little black dress that Annie and Abby had helped me find the night before. [Side note: I don't normally wear little black dresses because I think they are boring, but it is actually the perfect thing to wear as a bachelorette, because you end up covered in pins and sashes and tiaras with veils and necklaces that dye your neck skin pink, etc. This way there is no risk of clashing. Plus I loved the Black Swan element of wearing a white dress for the refined portion and wearing a black dress for the "get your de-tagging fingers ready" phase.]
Off to the South Side for bar crawling, with the new star of our party posse: Peter Pecker. Yes, a blow-up doll with a penis the size of a baby’s leg. I had said I didn’t want novelty penis items in my bachelorette party, but I was wrong. Because carrying around a blow-up doll is basically a blanket invitation for conversation with strangers, which is a recipe for fun and memorable quotations to use to title blog entries. So big props to my new friend Emily for providing us with Mr. Popularity.
[This is the only work-safe photo I have of Mr. Pecker]
We made a meal out of half-price appetizers at The Library and started boozing ourselves up. Our bartender gave me a series of free girly drinks, the last of which I had to pass around the table to avoid immediately dying of liver failure. Then we bar hopped: we danced, we visited the spot where Collin made the first move by buying me a drink (on his own birthday), we went to some bar that people kept calling “the Halloween bar” even though it seemed just like any other bar, and we danced some more.
I realized that part of the appeal of bar crawling is the people watching in the street between each bar. One of the highlights of the evening was running into a pair of newlyweds stuffing their faces in a parked car. “What are you doing on the South Side after your wedding?” we asked. “Burger,” the bride answered through a mouthful of same. I love these people.
We stayed out until the lights came on, and various boyfriends arrived to get my friends safely home. But Addi, Liz, Carrie and I stayed in for the only appropriate end to such a night: at stop at Ritter’s Diner. The motto of Ritter’s Diner should be, “If you don’t end up here, you didn’t have fun tonight.” And I. had. fun.
So big ups to Carrie for planning this wonderful celebration, and to all my other girlfriends for being there and being so fun. I hope they all get married soon so we can do this again.