The Bachelorette Party

So this weekend will be filled with boas, cocktails, and stripper poles...yes friends, I'm attending a bachelorette party!

Bachelorette parties in New York are a tad different than they are down South...for example, brides don't wear Life-Saver-covered tee-shirts reading "A Buck A Suck," praise God. Up here we don't try to make our party expenses back by whoring out the bride. Not that it's all that much more sophisticated...there are still plenty of humiliating bar "tasks" and of course the bride must distinguish herself with a veil of the cheapest fishnet quality. And in any region of the country, the evening will inevitably end with falling down, throwing up, tantrum having, drunken dialing - or some such combination of regrettable behavior.

Often the party attendees get roped into the trashy dress code and poor behavior, and while I cannot promise that I won't over serve myself, I have made it abundantly clear that under no circumstances will I don any trashy bachelorette attire. To put it simply: I am too old for puffy paint. Also, I do not wear wife-beaters in public.

And this is not a smug-married thing, really. Do you see how ridiculous these poor folks look? This is supposed to be your last hoo-rah, and you want to spend it in an oversized tee-shirt with condoms taped to your head and penises hanging from your neck...I can't think of anything sexier. I have never purposely gone in public looking like as asshole (that short stint in the pageant circuit not withstanding), and I will not do it on someone else's behalf! I just don't feel that you have any more fun in a bar when you look stupid. Sure, the bride needs to be recognized in some way, but the rest of the party members should look like regular bar patrons (or in the case of this weekend, a little better than regular bar patrons;-)

Of course that finds me once again in the struggle to look fabulous and hide my fat arms at the same time. It's my own fault I guess for breaking the cardinal rule of friendships and surrounding myself with people smaller than me. I mean not a damn one of em is bigger than a size 4...which I haven't worn since I was 3. Not to worry though, a little arm flab has never stopped my fabulocity (though I do need to invest in some sort of tanning situation because white flab is the worst). I would post pictures, but as you know- what happens at a bachelorette party, stays at a bachelorette party (men are confused enough as it is!)

Caution: Falling Names

I mean I can't hardly watch American Idol this season for all the name-dropping! Every time Randy Jackson opens his mouth it's a shower of celebs, and now Paula's joining in too. Um, being the assistant to the choreographer of the music video of the original artist has absolutely nothing to do with how well a song was performed by the 20-year-old farm boy in front of you. Why do you feel the need to tell us? Do you think your opinion has more weight because you taught a pop star how to step-touch while lip-syncing 20 years ago?

Randy is the WORST though. Every damn song is, "Journey, good band...I played with them," or, "That's a tough song, I worked with Whitney on that." Okay, maybe the first season when nobody knew who the hell you were, you felt like you needed to prove you actually knew something about the music industry, but at this point, what are we 7 years later, WE GET IT! Not only do we get that you've worked with some pretty major artists, we also get that every name you drop is during 80's Week, so basically, these artists haven't been relevant in 20 years! In fact, we don't hear much from Steve Perry these days because he realized he was old and rode his multi-platinum ass off into the sunset, which is exactly what you should do. But no, you spent too many years just outside the spotlight, didn't you? Now that you're recognizable you're gonna wear your ridiculous jewelry and make your asinine comments until they wheel you out on a gurney!

Randy and Paula may know all these famous folks, they may even have their numbers in they cell phones, but does anyone answer when they call? Doubtful.

Something to talk about

I asked a friend of mine a simple question the other day and by way of an answer she launched into a 10-minute saga about some ex-boyfriend and some new girlfriend and who knew what about whom and how they found out and what that meant in the grand scheme of her world. When she was through I said, "so, did you want to come to dinner tomorrow night or not," whereupon she realized she'd gone wa-a-ay off topic and apologized for the soap opera.

I said,"honey, if we didn't talk about folks, what would we talk about?" I mean seriously, I live for other people's drama, it's totally fascinating. I realized during my pageant days that, try as I might, I just did not have enough personal drama to keep things interesting. Had I a single relative in jail or rehab I might have stood a chance at a crown. The closest I've come is a brother asking for bail money for peeing in public, one swipe of a credit card and that was all over, didn't even get to visit him in lock-up.


Thank God I have such a large family, they provide hours of conversation...when they're not around of course. But since most of them have been behaving recently I've been nearly without gossip. Hell, if Britney Spears ever gets her act together I don't think I can go on living. I have dedicated my Internet existence to talkin' about folks, what else would I discuss...Politics? To be sure there's nothing of interest there and what little there is will be beaten to death in Congress. Religion? Y'all know I'm still attending The Church of St. Mattress so I can't really expound on more than thread count. Myself? Well now there's a topic on which I'm truly an expert but I've found that at a certain point perfection needs no further discussion;-)

I say all this because I think some of you out there may think talkin about folks behind their backs in unkind, but honey you can be sure they're talkin about you behind yours. That's why talkin was invented. It's not nasty, it's natural, scientific even, to observe the world around you and report back on your findings. You'd be a poor student of life if you returned close-lipped.

And don't worry that talking about folks you know makes you a bad person. The oldest and strongest friendships of my life are centered around the idea that talking about each other makes us superior to the others and a concerned friend simultaneously...an illusion which somehow keeps us all on speak terms.

It's like I always say..."if you can't say anything nice, come sit by me." Gossip has created more friendships than it's ended, and hell, if it ends a friendship that's just something more to talk about!