I survived a bachelorette weekend. An epic tale in 6 paragraphs.

Last weekend I went to a foreign land. Seattle. But not actually Seattle. We were close to Seattle, in the same way that the North America is close to Mars. I was in Leavenworth, WA. And I participated in some cultural activities. And no, I am not talking about dressing up in lederhosen and enjoying a beer garden. Except that we did enjoy a beer garden while sipping drinks from a bottle of wine. But we’re rebels like that.

So what is my point? I was getting to that. Be patient. And welcome back from your visit to the Leavenworth web site. That town has its own font. I was on a girl’s weekend/bachelorette party. And maybe it’s just me, but this is a little awkward as a lesbian. Mostly because people don’t know whether they should invite my spouse. They should not. And the bachelorette is one of my coolest friends, so she already knows not to invite my spouse. So it was not awkward.

But just in case you are thinking about inviting a lesbian couple to your bachelorette weekend, don’t. Unless they are the entertainment, in which case tip them well, because women make 73 cents for every dollar that a man makes. And as you already know, these types of performances require lots of dollar bills and 73 cents is just way to hard to tuck into a g string. But I digress.

Girls weekends, in spite of the name, are not really a gender thing although they do involve lingerie. But mostly they are about one half of a bunch of couples and one single lady, getting together without their spouses and without their kids and then talking about those people the whole time. And they are about underwear. And sometimes fake penises.

But the girls I was with were classy, so there were no fake penises to drink cocktails out of or wear on your head. Which means that I didn’t fit in at all. Because I have a whole collection of fake penises. Except I call them dildos, but whatever. And none of them have straws in them, so you cannot drink out of them. But some of them do have straps, so I suppose you could wear them on your head if you wanted to, but I don’t, because they don’t work very well that way. Or maybe they do, and I am just not very open-minded.

But let’s move on, because this is getting really personal and mildly embarrassing. And because this weekend was not about me, it was about the bachelorette. And it was about drinking. And that is why I’m only posting once this week. Because I was tired and hung over on Monday. And I was spending time trying penises on my head to see if it could work that way. The end.


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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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