“Who’s That Whore On The Bar?”

August 25, 2009 at 10:16 am 12 comments

So. Bachelorette parties. It seems I had a few. And by “a few,” I mean “somewhere around ten,” because the year I got married, my awesome friends just could not stop throwing me parties. Also, my impending marriage was a great excuse for us all to, you know, GET KNEE-WALKING DRUNK.

matrimonyMay you ask that God be present in this most holiest of unions. Also, may He bring some Jello shooters.

The purpose of this post was to bring you photo evidence of my very, uh, JUBILANT bachelorette party at which there was a very gay and farmer-tanned stripper. As you may recall, these photos made an unfortunate appearance at my wedding reception. I threw away some of the more damning shots, but I kept most of them. And I stashed them away…somewhere. Internet, I cannot find these pictures! Which means one thing: my daughter will totally find them ten years from now, hide them, then throw them in my face whenever I tell her not to drink/smoke/stay out late/hang with the wrong crowd.

mama sadie2

I know she would do this, because that’s totally what I would do.

I looked and searched and hunted for those damn pictures, and I’m sure I will stumble across them at some point, but right now I just have too many other uses for my free time other than “spend 4 hours searching for incriminating photos.” So I have settled for showing you pictures of the other bachelorette party I had. This one was a mere two days before the wedding, and most certainly included the condom veil.

But Internet! Do not feel cheated because you are not seeing the stripper party pictures! Because these photos have an equally rich and storied history. Come – let me whisper in your shell pink ear:

Brad and I were having our bachelor/bachelorette parties on the same night, and in the same small WV town. And since the town was rather small, our bar hopping list was pretty short. So, naturally, our two parties crossed paths at a fine establishment called The Number 8. Ah, yes. The Number 8. I remember it well, as this was the same shithole where I drank myself silly on draft beer with a fake ID when I was 19, BUT ANYWAY.

My party had descended on The Number 8 first, and we wasted no time ordering shots and queuing up some music on the jukebox. It should be noted that this was, oh, perhaps the fourth bar we’d hit, so I was a bit inebriated. I got my fool ass up on the bar and started dancing, and right as I did, Brad’s party came in. I didn’t see them right away because I was drunk turned the other way, and since Brad hadn’t seen me yet that night, he had no idea what I was wearing. Brad’s groomsman, Sam, turned to him and said, “Who’s that whore on the bar?”

Ladies and gentlemen, that whore was me.

Aaaaaaaand scene.

Later that night, both parties gathered at the hotel, and this is where the pictures I’m about to show you were taken.

(Oh, and as we just got rid of our old computer & printer/scanner and have not yet purchased a new scanner, I had to do the totally embarrassing “taking a picture of a picture” thing to bring these high-quality images to you. It’s like the digital photography version of recording a song off the radio.)

Photo #1: Um, WOW. Put On Some Pants.

Faux scan 013Yeah. So.

First of all, yes, that is a dress. And no, I don’t know what I was doing, other than possibly honing my blow-up sex doll impression. But anyway, there’s the veil! And there’s my friend Heather, who I think was trying to find someplace to deliver us food! Hi, Heather! Oh, and my friends had decorated the hotel room, that’s why there are pieces of paper all over the walls. They said things like…well, I can’t remember. But I’m sure it was mostly PG-13.

But can we please talk about that dress for a second? I think I can see Sadie in that picture. Good Lord.

Photo#2: So There’s The Rest Of That Dress.

Faux scan 017Please note the Crown Royal bag looped over my arm. You stay classy, Jive Turkey. Also, I seem to remember that by the end of the evening, there weren’t many condoms still attached to the veil. After all, this was like the eighth time I’d worn it out in public. In a small town. Yeah, I should probably never go back there.

Photo #3: Who’s had too much to drink and can’t keep her damn mouth shut?

Faux scan 011THIS GIRL.

And now, some bonus pictures. Just because. These are easier on the eyes, I promise.

Faux scan 008

My amazing friend Bethann threw a party after the rehearsal dinner, at which she hired AN ELVIS IMPERSONATOR to perform for us. As if that wasn’t fucking awesome enough, the Elvis in question had stuffed his pants. No, like REALLY stuffed his pants.

Faux scan 009

ENHANCE!

Faux scan 010I appear to be mesmerized by his hunka-hunka-burning package. Brad, I think, was trying not to piss his pants laughing. Random person in the background? Well, she has probably never recovered.

Faux scan 004And just because it makes me laugh, I took a picture of my old grad school ID that was mixed in with the boxes of pictures. Look at me! Clearly, I am ready to learn. I actually remember this day very well: I had totally flaked on the fact that I needed to get my photo taken for my ID, and we had to drive like maniacs down to campus so that I could get there before the place closed. I had not showered. I was not amused. In hindsight, I should have known this was a sign that things weren’t going to work out with ol’ Rutgers and me.

OK, Internet. There you have it. I hope I have made you laugh. I would be laughing right along with you, but I am mostly just terrified that Sadie will grow up with her mother’s taste in dresses. *Shudder*

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Entry filed under: And you KNOW THIS!.

100 Things, Two Announcements, And One Big-Ass Coincidence Go Away!

12 Comments Add your own

  • 1. kristin  |  August 25, 2009 at 10:24 am

    My first date with my husband was to the Ostrich Festival in Chandler, AZ (no, for real–would I lie to you?), at which we had the great good fortune of seeing the WORST Elvis impersonator in the WORLD. He performed in the ring where the ostrich races had been held. My (then future) husband thought it was great. I wanted to crawl under the bleachers because I was embarrassed for the poor totally-not-Elvis. We haven’t agreed on anything since.

    Reply
  • 2. HoST  |  August 25, 2009 at 12:58 pm

    You’re a mother now. Hilarious.

    Reply
  • 3. Dana  |  August 25, 2009 at 1:49 pm

    love it. I was totally embarrassed at my bachelorette party. It was weird. co workers threw it for me and I didnt know how to react.. like should I be professional since I work with these people, or just go all out. You KNOW I went all out! I don’t know where the pictures are… this is bad.

    I gotta find those. Worse yet, I need to find the pictures of my trip to Mardi Gras. Those are TOTALLY worse. Ethan isnt even allowed to KNOW I went there. yikes.

    Reply
  • 4. Josh  |  August 25, 2009 at 2:28 pm

    Elvis’ junk ain’t no joke. I mean, it is….. but at the same time, it isn’t.

    Reply
  • 5. Amy  |  August 25, 2009 at 3:38 pm

    I knew I should have had a bachelorette party. Damn.

    But, I have actually been to Graceland…and I’ve been inside THE Jungle Room. Snarl.

    Reply
  • 6. Chicago Friend of Said Turkey  |  August 25, 2009 at 4:13 pm

    oh sweet baby jesus with a tampon those are funny.

    Reply
  • 7. MLE  |  August 25, 2009 at 4:55 pm

    My bachelorette party was well-documented on the internets by both myself and Leah, who got some great shots of the lap dance I was given by a large African-American shemale named Simone who was dressed in a French Maid outfit.

    Other stuff happened, too, but that was probably the highlight.

    Reply
  • 8. Sara  |  August 25, 2009 at 11:23 pm

    Sure looks like Elvis got hung, not stung (or maybe he did; that would explain the swelling).

    And I love how your tongue is hanging out in all those photos…until the last one, which is totally mug shot quality. Nice, JT.

    Reply
  • 9. Mermanda  |  August 26, 2009 at 11:03 am

    My bachelorette party will not involve such antics. I don’t know if this makes me happy or sad. I just want to sing “Time After Time” at my favorite karaoke bar and call it a night.

    Reply
    • 10. jiveturkey  |  August 26, 2009 at 12:46 pm

      BE HAPPY. Because those pictures up there? Are what happens when you get married before you have learned how to party responsibly.

      Reply
  • 11. Amanda of Shamelessly Sassy  |  August 29, 2009 at 10:10 am

    My bachelorette party was held at a bar with a drag show. It was absolutely fantastic. I wish pictures existed of me dancing on stage with a big tranny posing as Whitney Houston, but alas, I cannot locate them. Please know that he/she/he/she? did a fabulous version of the entire Bodyguard soundtrack.

    Reply
  • 12. Amanda of Shamelessly Sassy  |  August 29, 2009 at 10:12 am

    Oh shit! You know what else? I was 4 months pregnant and wearing maternity overhauls while dancing with trannys. I’m so classy.

    Reply

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