The Bachelorette

As you know, my partner in crime (literally), Ms. Heather D, is getting married in September...and I'm her Maid of Honor. The more I think about this title, the more I like it. In fact, I kind of want to get my mom a bumper sticker for her car that says, "My Daughter Is A Maid of Honor." It may not carry as much weight around town as a "My Daughter Is An Honor Roll Student" bumper sticker would, but I think it speaks volumes more.

For instance, do Honor Roll students cover for you when you puke on the stairs at a high school party thrown by a seriously cute boy? Probably not. And do they try to deny their own involvement when the two of you get called down to the town police station for incessant crank calling from your house phone? Probably. That's why I take pride in this particular title of honor. I earned it, baby!

As any good Maid of Honor would, I flew home (to NJ) for Heather's bachelorette party and wedding shower. And considering my enduring funemployed status, I was able to stay for two weeks and make a big trip out of it, hangin' at home with my mom and dad and visiting all sorts of fun friends in NYC. More on that later.

A few things of note about this particular bachelorette party (and the rest will remain where it belongs--as conversation among the 4 walls at some really fun bar in Manhattan where no one gets mad when the dj plays the Bangles):

1. The bachelorette was brought to tears before we even left our pre-party location due to a sappy little poem I wrote about her. Speaking of which, can we add that to the "Things I'm Good At" list? Cause it's true! I'm good at low-quality poetry suitable only for bachelorette parties and other champagne-soaked situations. And in this particular poem, I even managed to rhyme "fire" with "jambalaya." See?
2. When we arrived at the restaurant we had picked for Heather, we found out that Ross from Friends was having dinner there that night! Maybe if we had focused a little less on ourselves and a little more on him, we could have convinced 'ole Ross to join us in our limo for the night. Instead, we wound up with a crew of Irish lads who may or may not have actually been Irish.
3. Our friend Jilly sustained a graceful chin injury from a head-turning mechanical bull ride. Yee haw! How's that for a new mother...of three? Answer: awesome.

Unquestionably, the evening was a massive success. Not only did we do it up right for our bride to be, but we also stimulated the economy with our aggressive Alka-Selzer purchases the next morning. Honorable? I say yes.