Girls Gone Wild: CC’s B-Party and The Night Shit Got Broke. And Also The Next Day.

Do not want.

CC had a few requests for her bachelorette party – no strippers, and no penises of any kind, be it a penis straw, a penis necklace, an actual penis … she wanted none of it. She said she was too damn old to be running around bedecked in penises, and male strippers are totally gross and not even ironically funny.

I, being that Maid of Mother Fucking Honor, or MOMFH for short, agreed. No peens for the party. Hot Mama agreed, and Smitty Kitty agreed, and so it was writ, we were going to plan a totally peen free bachelorette party.

We had to have a theme, though. And that theme, to be consistent with making this all about CC, was animal print. CC has an animal print addiction. It’s very probable that Chilla is going to come home one day and find that CC has upholstered their entire house and most of the cats in animal print.

This meant that everyone had to have on at least one item, be it clothes or accessory, that included animal print. We took all of the stuffed monkeys from the shower, because they looked like they wanted to party, and who doesn’t love a stuffed monkey? This also meant that I, being the MOMFH, had to secure an animal print party bus that CC had seen in the South Side one night. Armed with nothing but Google, I found it.

So much hotness, the street melted.

So there we were. 26 women, decked out in our finest jungle attire, with a bunch of stuffed monkeys, in a zebra print bus, with a fully stocked bar. What could possibly go wrong? *blinkblink*

We decided to start out by driving around a little bit, enjoy some free booze, and some pretty pictures from Mt. Washington.

I love this picture. It includes some of my most favorite things. My best friend, a gorgeous view of the city, and my new tits.

Since it was CC’s party, we went were CC wanted to go. And that was the casino. As the MOMFH, I felt like I had be in charge of making sure everyone made it out alive. This meant that as much as I hated it, I had to curb my drinking so I could be responsible. This would end up being the best decision I have made in a long, long time.

I made the announcement that we were all splitting up at the casino, since 26 incredibly hot women hovering around one slot machine is just ridiculous. I did ask that when anyone came across anyone else from the party, they throw up their hands and go “WOOOOO”. I also, jokingly, said that the first lady to get a picture of a live male penis with a stuffed monkey wrapped around it would win a special prize.

I had no special prize. I was JOKING. But I forgot about Krazy K. Krazy is Chilla’s mom’s best friend. She is also Mavrick’s dart league partner, a close friend of ours, and completely out of her mind. In a good way. If you want to have fun, you go out with Krazy K. She also has this uncanny ability to get men to send her pictures of their penis. We weren’t in the casino for more than 15 minutes and I had a picture text come through. I was like, oh hell no, she did NOT already get a picture of a strange man’s penis with a monkey wrapped around it. Yes. Yes she actually did. That’s Krazy K for you.

The “WOOOOO” was a huge hit. For an hour and a half, all you could hear throughout the casino was “WOOOOO”, about every ten minutes or so. It was like a drunk girl mating call, only instead of mating, we were just happy to be out without boyfriends, husbands or children on a Saturday night. WOOOOO, indeed.

I was able to corral all 26 attendees, who by now were feeling pretty darn good, and get them back on the bus and to our next stop, McFadden’s.

McFadden’s wasn’t what you call hopping when we got there. But it sure as shit was once we arrived. We were now ready to get down to some serious partying. And also dancing. Dear lord the dancing.

The DJ quickly caught on that we were a bachelorette party, and it so happened that there was ANOTHER bachelorette party there, so the only logical thing to do in this situation is a Bride to Be Dance Off.

It was SUPPOSED to be a Bride to Be Dance Off, but someone forgot to tell the drunk guy, who had somehow gotten his hands on one of our monkeys, stuffed it down his pants, and ran out to be the cream in a Bride to Be cookie sandwich. Then all hell broke loose. Everyone flooded the dance floor, and shit was getting DOWN.

CC soon realized there was a raised platform, about two feet across and four feet off the ground, that would be PERFECT for drunk women in high heels to dance on. She got herself up there and remained there for the better part of the night. She came down only to smoke and pee. During one of her smoke breaks, she dropped her drink, as one tends to do when they’ve had 37 of them. There was a lovely bouncer standing there, and she spent a good, oh, I don’t know, ten minutes, apologizing. Because bar bouncers never see that sort of thing.

Then it was BACK TO THE PLATFORM FOR MORE DANCING. She was joined by one of our party goers, who had already shown a large portion of the bar her underpants. Let’s call her Flasher. They were shaking their groove things to Cotton Eyed Joe when it happened.

Where do you come from, where do you go, where do you come from Cotton Eyed Joe.. THUNK

Flasher took a header right off the platform, hit the ground, and made sure that the remaining bar patrons also saw her panties. It was fucking awesome.

The plan had always been to hit many bars, but CC was having so much fun on that goddamn platform that we never left McFadden’s. The party bus driver texted me. It was time to go. I was going to have to get CC off the platform. This was going to get ugly.

Me: “CC. Come on. The bus is here. We have to go.”

CC: “I donwannago”

Me: “We have to. The bus is here and it will leave you here if you don’t get off that platform and into the bus right now.”

CC: “This ish MY PARTY. This ish MY NIGHT. Imma dance more.”

Me: *lightbulb* “Want to smoke real fast?”

CC: “Shhhhhhhure!”

Victory! Or so I thought. Much like the saying you can take a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, you can take a drunken bachelorette outside but you can’t make her get on the bus. She took one look at that bus and ran around the corner, sobbing.

CC: “I DON’T WANT IT TO BE OVER. I don’t want my night to be over. It’s all over.”

Me: “It’s not over, love. You still have the biggest day of your life ahead of you! This was just practice. Come on, let’s get on the bus.”

CC: “No.”

Me: “CC. If you don’t get on that bus this instant, they are going to fine me and I am going to have to pay extra. Do you want me to pay extra? Is that what you want.”

CC: “Umm hmmm. Yesh.”

Thankfully, at this point one of our friends, Crazy Jen came over (lots of crazy folks in our group)and without words, with eye signals alone, I gave the three count, we each lifted her up be an arm, and literally carried her, screaming, onto the bus.

She hurled herself into a seat and proceeded to wail the ENTIRE RIDE HOME. Apparently, she really didn’t want the night to be over. The bus pulls up to my house, and mayhem ensues. Some people were sleeping over, some people were getting picked up, and the boys got home at the same time we did. There were roughly 46 people in front of my house, ¾ of whom were fall down drunk. And it’s 2:00 am.

I had to get CC inside. Because she clearly wasn’t doing it herself. I half dragged, half carried up to the house. She was still sobbing into my ear, “It’s over. It’s over. It’s all over…”. Smitty Kitty was tipping the bus driver and Hot Mama … where was Hot Mama during all of this you ask? Hot Mama was a Hot Mess. I lost track of her once I knew she was on the bus. I had CC to take care of.

I get CC upstairs and wrestle her into the guest bed.

CC: “Bling. You’re ma besh friend.”

Me: “I know CC. And you’re my best friend. I love you.”

CC: “Can you put my jammy pants on for me?”

So I did. I also left a puke bucket by her side of the bed. I had a feeling she would need it (nailed that one). I then went downstairs to fine 11 drunk women passed out throughout my house. INCLUDING. Including Hot Mama, who was actually passed out on my patio. There. I found her.

So I wake her up, gently shove her up the stairs, and lay her down next to CC.

HM: “Bling. Whadda fun night.”

Me: “Yes, Hot Mama. It WAS a fun night. Sleep tight!”

HM: “Can you take off my pants for me?”

So I did. Apparently being the MOMFH means you’re on pants duty for the bachelorette party.

And you would think that would be that. And you would be wrong. Fast forward to the next morning.

You know CC loves a rehash. So we decided to rehash over champers (champagne to you common folk). Mavrick and Hot Mama decide, in a moment of epic fail, to go for Caesars. Remember the bee swarm Hot Mama was telling you about? Well, the bees were still there. So we decided to take chairs out to my front yard, so we can drink. At 10:00 am. Thereby solidifying for our neighbors that we are, indeed, crazy.

Nothing like drinking champers in your front yard! At 10:00 am! On a Sunday!

I had A glass of champers and A glass of white wine, because we had to drive to Columbus to get the baby at 3. One of us had to stay sober, and after the third Caesar, I knew it wouldn’t be Mavrick. Mavrick and Hot Mama were tying one on. At one point, I was in the kitchen and Mavrick walked in to mix a drink –“Hot Mama is one drink away from not being able to walk or talk. I’m making that drink now.” And he walks out. With that drink.

I walk back outside and someone had also given Hot Mama a glass of champers. She was double fisting, tried to sit in a lawn chair, and fell over. She then decided she was just going to stay on the ground with the cupcake wrappers and cigarette butts. At this point, my neighbors decided to stop over, because previously Mavrick told them to stop over ANYTIME to see our new countertops.

Picture, if you will, Hot Mama sprawled out on my walk way, Mavrick sitting only half lucidly in a lawn chair, CC and Chilla and Hot Papa napping (passed out) in my living room, and empty champers bottles  everywhere. Do you have that picture locked into your brain? Because I do. And my neighbors do, too.

I actually left them all there while me and Mavrick went to get Mavbling. Want to see how much fun he was on the trip?

Zzzzzzz. He is tons of fun on a road trip.

So there you have it. The Hangover got nothing on us Bitches.

If only stuffed monkeys could talk...

Yours in Animal Print,

MB

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6 Comments

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6 responses to “Girls Gone Wild: CC’s B-Party and The Night Shit Got Broke. And Also The Next Day.

  1. Sounds like a perfect night! I wish my animal print and I could’ve been there to enjoy the show! I can’t believe yall found a zebra bus…too funky! Congrats to CC and her girls for a most epic send-off! And MB, your boobies are so cute, not obnoxiously big at all! Brava to you and your Doc!

  2. Great recap… I was cheezin’ through the whole thing. And now I know who to ask to put me to bed when I’ve had too many…

  3. Ken

    I have to echo Cassie. One word came to mind… EPIC.

  4. Apron

    I will regret missing this party until I die.

  5. That was the most fun I had reading in a LONG time!

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