The Last Fling Before the Ring...

Bachelorette Parties are interesting things men cannot understand. Much like women, periods and the difference in my 8 pairs of black shoes... Guys have bachelor parties and you don't see them stick a crown on the groom-to-be's head with a necklace covered in little plastic vaginas. They do not run around in packs downtown seeing who can be the loudest Woo-hooer, the sexiest dancer or blow whistles at hot men as they stagger down the street. The boys version?

Show me boobs. Give me beer. Done.

You gotta respect the simplicity of it, really. (I do want to give mad props to the bachelor party group I witnessed Saturday night who had taken a blow-up doll and handcuffed it to the groom... That. Was awesome.)

Women would be a bit less than satisfied if you handed a bride-to-be a box of wine and had some naked boys gyrate their wangs in her face.

(At least MY friends would've been anyway...)

So instead, we women plan days at the spa or dinner out dressed up with the girls... The we go out and get rowdy and drink. We stick a light up tiara on the chosen ones head, parade her all over town, making her as big a spectacle as humanly possible. For what? Free drinks? The attention? Maybe a bit of both. Maybe it is in the spirit of needing that connection with other women and feeling like we need to justify it with an occasion. Which is sad, really.

We shouldn't need an excuse to cram 8 girls together in one hotel room to giggle and talk about random things. We shouldn't need a reason to drink an obscene amount of liquor, dance our butts off and laugh at each other. And I'll be damned if we really need to have a reason to get all hopped up at 3 am to go get in the hotel pool in bras and panties. (Speaking of which, we should've sold tickets to THAT part of the night to pay for the alcohol portion! Duh! Why didn't I think of that before??? And there we were, a bunch of suckers, givin' that kind of show away for free?!? GAH!)

So I hereby second the motion for annual Bachelorette Party Night. Even if we don't pick a fake bride. I swear it's not to see the Hottest Boy I Have Ever Seen again... It's not for the free drinks being a group earned us... It's not even for the hilarity of seeing my drunk friend get on more than one stage with a crooked plastic tiara and veil on her head. It's to see you hot bitches all wet in your undies, dammit! ;-) No, I kid, I kid... It is our right- nay, our duty as women to get the hell away from the guys on occasion and do whatever the hell we want. And let them do whatever they want.

Even if it is boring old boobs and beer.