Swinging Pillow Dicks and Other Adventures

One of The Boy's work friends is getting married on Wednesday and she very sweetly invited me to her bachelorette party last week. I thought that bachelor parties were all booze, cigars and hookers pretending to be strippers who only accepted you money for a hummer because they "thought you were cute" while bachelorette parties were more like baby showers but with lingerie.

Well not this one. When the bride-to-be first invited me to Darcelle's I thought it was a bar. I expected fruity drinks (which I had), tequila shots (which I had), and not-so-subtle comments about the bride- and groom-to-be's sex life (which were made, mostly by the "ladies" of the establishment).

Yeah,... Darcelle's is a drag show. I wasn't completely taken by surprise (thank you google) but it was definitely more than I was expecting. I think my favorite part was when the two "ladies" on stage flipped up their bright orange tiger print wrap dresses to reveal underpants with stuffed junk attached. That's right: someone sewed two sets of oversized men's dangly bits, stuffed them like a pillow, and attached them to underwear for drag queens. My sincerest hope is that it was their mothers or grandmothers. Such support.

After the show, which surprisingly did not include and Cher, we headed out without having really decided on a destination which I can tell you is always a mistake when you're in a group of drunk (or sober, really), fickle women.

Finally I took charge and, picking up on a rather revealing comment from the bride-to-be earlier in the evening, led the group to Cabaret, my favorite strip club that just happened to be a few blocks away. It was her first time at such a place but she liked it; the dancers were very attentive (as they tend to be when a group of women come in) and the bride found a dancer she really liked and who really REALLY liked her. Let's just say that many of the club's rules were broken that night, despite the fact that the owner was on site and wandering around the club's tiny premises.

Aside from a brief interlude where we attempted to go to the nearby gay club where we had heard there were male strippers*, we stayed at Cabaret for the rest of the night. When The Boy got off work he came downtown to pick me up (I had to work in the morning and was fading fast) and one of his other work friends insisted on buying him a dance from the bride's favorite girl. She invited me to watch and it quickly turned into a couple's dance. Like I said: there was definitely a lot of rule breaking going on, I'll spare you the sexy details.

After the dance we left and although I professed my stripper-kindled desire for The Boy on the whole ride home, when we arrived I found myself unfit for the task at hand and slowly, gracefully crashed face-first into my pillow, dead to the world.

But I made sure to make up for it when I got home from work the next day.


*They didn't let us in! We wanted to see those sexy gay men strutting their stuff in technicolor banana hammocks, but they claimed that one of the girls in the party was visibly intoxicated (which she was) and they couldn't let her in (which is crap). Oh well. Maybe next time.