KI THE BRID
There is something about Bachelorette Parties that brings out the weirdos - both in ourselves and in others. All it takes is some girl in a veil or some penis crown, and it's like a trip to a Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum.
I was back in Seattle for my friends' April & Mark's wedding two weeks ago and came in the day before the Bachelorette Party. We had a room downtown, had appetizers, played hot potato with a cucumber, and played "Pin the Dick on the Dick". Everything was fairly calm amongst our penis straws, penis sucker rings, and our "Kiss the Bride" temporary tattoos, which read "Ki the Brid" by the end of the night. April was given a bunch of Mardi Gras bead that had tasks she had to complete on them. When the task was completed, she would then give the beads to that person. Unfortunately she was able to give out two beads to any of us attendees that she didn't want to do. She gave me the one that said, "Get a chest hair from a guy," which I'd suggested to Erin for the game. Damn it! Then we left the room.
We had dinner at Purple in Seattle and went around saying how we met April and gave any marital advice we had. April was able to get rid of her first bead of "Have someone buy you a drink" by our waiter. Dinner was great, then we decided to cab it to Post-Alley for some bars. We first hit the Alibi Room and had a drink, some two, there. It was a bit too chill and there was no way the beads would be purged there, so we decided to walk to Kell's, the great Irish pub.
As soon as entered, the bartender seeing April in her veil, gave the entire party a free round of shots of Wedding Cake. We all had sworn not to do shots, but three of us ended up doing blow job shots before we even left the room, including myself. I hate shots. Shots get to me, but I secretly thanked my high tolerance as I guzzled the Wedding Cake shot, which mainly contained juice with a droplet of alcohol. Almost immediately afterwards, some guy starting asking me about who was getting married. We were talking for a bit and that's when it hit me. Ask for his hair.
Me: Okay, so I have a strange question for you.
Drunk Guy: Okay.
Me: Do you have chest hair?
Drunk Guy: I actually have like ten!
Me: Great! Can I have one?
He stares at me with a combination of shock and intrigue.
Me: So I have this bead that has a task I have to complete. (I show him) I have to get a guy's chest hair.
Drunk Guy: (In all seriousness) Well, I have a lot more hair on my butt. Do you want one of those?
Me: Uh no, thank you. I'll take one of the ten chest hairs, please.
So he plucks one out as I scream, "Erin! He's giving me a chest hair!" and she takes a picture of it. He puts it in my hand and I throw it to the ground. I then decided never to make a suggestion for this game again, as this obviously bit me on the ass.
The night went on with lots of beer and laughter. It amazes me how we all loosen up at a Bachelorette Party. We talk to people we'd maybe never talk to for instance. I spoke to a guy with a thick, New York accent who had moved to Seattle a few years back and bitched about Seattle pizza. I was then introduced to his cute friend who was out in Seattle from NYC for an interview with the Seattle Fire Department, despite being offered a place in the NY Fire Department. He hugged me when I wished him good luck and asked why I was single, but my friends whisked away before I could tell him it was because I talk about poo too much.
I later spoke with Nathan as his friend tried to tell April why she shouldn't get married. The following is the strange conversation I encountered.
Nathan: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am? (This is my ego praying to hear me misclaimed as in my 20's)
Nathan: 29? (Woo hoo ego!)
Me: I'm 34. I'll be 35 this year.
Nathan: Really? Cuz I'd have sex with you if you were 29 (I think he was 23). I guess I could still have sex with you though.
Me: I'm not going to have sex with YOU though!
Nathan: Oh. What is your name?
Me: Heather. What is your's?
Nathan: Guess! It starts with an "N".
Heather: Nick!
Nathan: Nope.
Heather: I'm sorry, but there's no other guy names that start with an "N".
Vanessa: NATE!
Nathan: That's right! I have it tattooed on me in case I forget it.
And he did. I have a picture of his belly to prove it.
Why does this happen at Bachelorette parties? Can someone please tell me this? Granted, I'm the one continuing the conversation after someone says they'd have sex with me, but STILL! So the night went on. Lynna fell somehow and took April down and I made them reinact it for pictures. We all belted out Toto's "Africa' amongst other cheesy songs, though "Africa" was definitely the big song of the night for us, then we closed down the bar.
We all left drunk and tired and walking back to our hotel. Along the way on Pike Street, I came across a lonely shopping cart laying on it's side on the sidewalk. I felt a rush and uprighted it, yelling, "April! Get in!" Now those of you who know April know she typically wouldn't easily jump into some dirty shopping cart found on the sidewalks of downtown Seattle. However, something about a veil, a purple boa, and a lot of alcohol will change a person.
"Okay, just don't tip me!" And she hopped in. I started pushing her down the major street in Seattle. She sat smiling like the beautiful bride that she was in what was possibly a stolen homeless person's shopping cart. Then it happened - we had to cross the street. We needed to go straight, but the handicapped ramp on the corner was on the side facing the opposite street. I had to maneuver her down the ramp and then turn her around the corner to go straight. With all the alcohol in my bloodstream this was going to take MacGuyver-like skills.
I held onto the shopping cart handle with all my might and edged her down the ramp. All was going well until I veered the cart to the left to aim for the proper crosswalk. That's when the trouble began. As I leaned to the right to make the cart turn left, it started to tilt. I quickly realized I'd lost control.
"Don't let me fall! Don't let me fall!" shouted the bride who was now in a cart with the two left wheels in the air. I held on tight to not let it tip and then I was overcome with laughter. She went down. My other friends ran to her aid, but it was too late. She was going down. I held on so she at least hit the ground slowly, but the laughter from this beautiful, hysterical incident became too much...and I peed my pants.
Yes folks, I pissed 'em good! It wasn't just a tinkle, but a full on pee. Damned black and tans, hysterical laughter, and a tiny bladder. But what can you do? Cry? Try to pretend it didn't happen? No. I bent over and posed with my urine-stained jeans and made one of my friend take my picture (see below).
We got back to the hotel and I made my kindergarten "I wet my pants" bag and smiled as I drifted off to sleep. I'd missed my friends. Life was entertaining at the very least. And I had my temporary mark to "Ki the Brid."
I was back in Seattle for my friends' April & Mark's wedding two weeks ago and came in the day before the Bachelorette Party. We had a room downtown, had appetizers, played hot potato with a cucumber, and played "Pin the Dick on the Dick". Everything was fairly calm amongst our penis straws, penis sucker rings, and our "Kiss the Bride" temporary tattoos, which read "Ki the Brid" by the end of the night. April was given a bunch of Mardi Gras bead that had tasks she had to complete on them. When the task was completed, she would then give the beads to that person. Unfortunately she was able to give out two beads to any of us attendees that she didn't want to do. She gave me the one that said, "Get a chest hair from a guy," which I'd suggested to Erin for the game. Damn it! Then we left the room.
We had dinner at Purple in Seattle and went around saying how we met April and gave any marital advice we had. April was able to get rid of her first bead of "Have someone buy you a drink" by our waiter. Dinner was great, then we decided to cab it to Post-Alley for some bars. We first hit the Alibi Room and had a drink, some two, there. It was a bit too chill and there was no way the beads would be purged there, so we decided to walk to Kell's, the great Irish pub.
As soon as entered, the bartender seeing April in her veil, gave the entire party a free round of shots of Wedding Cake. We all had sworn not to do shots, but three of us ended up doing blow job shots before we even left the room, including myself. I hate shots. Shots get to me, but I secretly thanked my high tolerance as I guzzled the Wedding Cake shot, which mainly contained juice with a droplet of alcohol. Almost immediately afterwards, some guy starting asking me about who was getting married. We were talking for a bit and that's when it hit me. Ask for his hair.
Me: Okay, so I have a strange question for you.
Drunk Guy: Okay.
Me: Do you have chest hair?
Drunk Guy: I actually have like ten!
Me: Great! Can I have one?
He stares at me with a combination of shock and intrigue.
Me: So I have this bead that has a task I have to complete. (I show him) I have to get a guy's chest hair.
Drunk Guy: (In all seriousness) Well, I have a lot more hair on my butt. Do you want one of those?
Me: Uh no, thank you. I'll take one of the ten chest hairs, please.
So he plucks one out as I scream, "Erin! He's giving me a chest hair!" and she takes a picture of it. He puts it in my hand and I throw it to the ground. I then decided never to make a suggestion for this game again, as this obviously bit me on the ass.
The night went on with lots of beer and laughter. It amazes me how we all loosen up at a Bachelorette Party. We talk to people we'd maybe never talk to for instance. I spoke to a guy with a thick, New York accent who had moved to Seattle a few years back and bitched about Seattle pizza. I was then introduced to his cute friend who was out in Seattle from NYC for an interview with the Seattle Fire Department, despite being offered a place in the NY Fire Department. He hugged me when I wished him good luck and asked why I was single, but my friends whisked away before I could tell him it was because I talk about poo too much.
I later spoke with Nathan as his friend tried to tell April why she shouldn't get married. The following is the strange conversation I encountered.
Nathan: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am? (This is my ego praying to hear me misclaimed as in my 20's)
Nathan: 29? (Woo hoo ego!)
Me: I'm 34. I'll be 35 this year.
Nathan: Really? Cuz I'd have sex with you if you were 29 (I think he was 23). I guess I could still have sex with you though.
Me: I'm not going to have sex with YOU though!
Nathan: Oh. What is your name?
Me: Heather. What is your's?
Nathan: Guess! It starts with an "N".
Heather: Nick!
Nathan: Nope.
Heather: I'm sorry, but there's no other guy names that start with an "N".
Vanessa: NATE!
Nathan: That's right! I have it tattooed on me in case I forget it.
And he did. I have a picture of his belly to prove it.
Why does this happen at Bachelorette parties? Can someone please tell me this? Granted, I'm the one continuing the conversation after someone says they'd have sex with me, but STILL! So the night went on. Lynna fell somehow and took April down and I made them reinact it for pictures. We all belted out Toto's "Africa' amongst other cheesy songs, though "Africa" was definitely the big song of the night for us, then we closed down the bar.
We all left drunk and tired and walking back to our hotel. Along the way on Pike Street, I came across a lonely shopping cart laying on it's side on the sidewalk. I felt a rush and uprighted it, yelling, "April! Get in!" Now those of you who know April know she typically wouldn't easily jump into some dirty shopping cart found on the sidewalks of downtown Seattle. However, something about a veil, a purple boa, and a lot of alcohol will change a person.
"Okay, just don't tip me!" And she hopped in. I started pushing her down the major street in Seattle. She sat smiling like the beautiful bride that she was in what was possibly a stolen homeless person's shopping cart. Then it happened - we had to cross the street. We needed to go straight, but the handicapped ramp on the corner was on the side facing the opposite street. I had to maneuver her down the ramp and then turn her around the corner to go straight. With all the alcohol in my bloodstream this was going to take MacGuyver-like skills.
I held onto the shopping cart handle with all my might and edged her down the ramp. All was going well until I veered the cart to the left to aim for the proper crosswalk. That's when the trouble began. As I leaned to the right to make the cart turn left, it started to tilt. I quickly realized I'd lost control.
"Don't let me fall! Don't let me fall!" shouted the bride who was now in a cart with the two left wheels in the air. I held on tight to not let it tip and then I was overcome with laughter. She went down. My other friends ran to her aid, but it was too late. She was going down. I held on so she at least hit the ground slowly, but the laughter from this beautiful, hysterical incident became too much...and I peed my pants.
Yes folks, I pissed 'em good! It wasn't just a tinkle, but a full on pee. Damned black and tans, hysterical laughter, and a tiny bladder. But what can you do? Cry? Try to pretend it didn't happen? No. I bent over and posed with my urine-stained jeans and made one of my friend take my picture (see below).
We got back to the hotel and I made my kindergarten "I wet my pants" bag and smiled as I drifted off to sleep. I'd missed my friends. Life was entertaining at the very least. And I had my temporary mark to "Ki the Brid."
