almost-sane's Diaryland Diary

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Barefoot in the Bar

DISCLAIMER: This entry isn�t as long as it looks. It�s image heavy and fun- I�ve got a lot of pictures from my weekend and I�ve selected some highlights for your viewing pleasure which have lengthened this entry and you�ve gotta be patient today. So read on- it�s worth it.

Bachelorette Party hijinks ensue! Let's all thank Nichole for relinquishing her rights to singledom so that I could be an intoxicated mess this weekend... Cheers to Matt & Nic! Yeah, so I was supposed to go to Vegas but here lies the silver lining- I didn't get to go to Vegas but I spent the best weekend ever with the girls.

Friday night it was five of us at Kat's (hers was the HQ all weekend because she has the biggest place). While I had to spend the day in the real world (at the office), a few of them spent the day hungover from a work party (they wrapped a show they all work on) so we spent that night in our girly PJ's on the couch. We made massive ice cream sundaes and watched Drop Dead Gorgeous. Have you seen this movie, kids? HILARIOUS, I tell you. I mean, I've seen it before-- every time Denise Richards rolls onto that stage with that crucified Jesus... Well, shit.

We called it an early night because Saturday morning, we rose early to go to the Burke Williams Spa for various treatments. OH. MY. GOD. You have no idea. Heaven, friends! So you go into this place and once you check in, they escort you in and the big wood doors shut behind you. They give you a key, a locker, a big cushy robe (with a hood- I love the hood), flip-flops, lavender-scented towels and blankets and inside this "locker room" are over-sized showers, vanity tables with all the female amenities (brushes, sprays, lotions, cottons, hairsprays, blow-dryers...), saunas, misting rooms, a hot tub... This place is woman-heaven.

So before you get to go to whatever appointment you've made, they walk you to this "Quiet Room" where you sit in private recliners with the softest, lushest, nicest smelling blankets. The room is barely lit and so peaceful. There're fruit and water and eventually they whisper your name so you can go to your facial or massage or whatever...

So I had a 50 minute full-body massage. And don't think I haven't used the word heaven enough? Fear not!

We spent some time taking advantage of the "locker room" and basking in our self-proclaimed wonderfulness. We got takeout from Cheesecake Factory and P.F. Chang�s and went back to Kat's and watched Spaceballs.

Spent the afternoon sleeping.

And then: HIJINKS. I mentioned that, yes?

Saturday night, everyone brought their favorite outfits over to Kat's for dress-up. I did a lot of make-up (oh, both on myself and on others) and we all traded a lot of clothes. We had a fancy-shmancy dinner at Vert in Hollywood and then... 'twas off to Saddle Ranch.

In the grand tradition (is it tradition? I thought it was0) of bachelorette parties, we made Nichole wear a veil and a white suit. And as if that didn't call enough attention to our posse of ten, the rest of us were parading around Universal City Walk in bunny ears and tails with white bow ties. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked if I was a playmate (and for every time I replied I'd banged Hugh Hefner)... But it made good. We were showered with attention and blessed with free round after free round. Shots, shots, shots!

Adios Motherfuckers, Mind Erasers, Sour Apple Shooters, Lemon Drops, Mudslides, Texas Tea Parties... if some of these drinks sound bad, it's because they ARE. I was so fucked up I was dancing on the chair, and some of my friends were dancing on the bar. We passed the camera around and took pictures of our boobs. Kat made $40 bucks flashing nearby tables for money. By midnight, my feet were killing me and I was walking around barefoot, not giving a rat's ass what was spilled on the floor. I stayed barefooted in the parking garage and in the streets.

I was a pistol too all night long. Everyone was "sweetie" and "honey" unless I asked the names because I was the best friend of them all. Ralph was the hot bartender in red. Eric had the piercings- what a shame about him because he gave me his number and I lost it. Ryan was the punk who gave me my first AMF. I thought he was adorable. "Fish" was the one who traded Jess her bunny ears for a free round. He was a riot. And Roger was our beloved waiter. That was the best of them all- we were "Roger's Rabbits" all night. Could that have worked out any better? And kudos to the cool dude who complimented me on my "nice booty." He rocks.

Oh, and I have to mention my brave friends Ky and Kate that rode the bull drunk. No one else would do it. Good for them, says I.

There's nothing like being in a bar that big and being the center of attention. Bachelorette party every month I say!!! Crowning achievement: My shot with Leasa at 10:30 (12:30 her time) while she had her bachelorette party in Amarillo. How cool is that? Over the phone we pulled it off. BRILLIANT PLANNING.

We stayed until last call when we had to hobble out, carry Kat to the car, me carrying my shoes (like I said- bare feet until wee hours) and dancing down the walk ways by now and singing whatever I could. When we finally found our car, we fell into it (and "fell" may be the best verb to use, seriously) and head back to headquarters.

Think we're out of energy by now? HA HA! Think again!!! We haven't drunk dialed nearly enough people yet! Just a couple of friends from the bar but hell, I've got a whole cell phone to thumb through and James is all the way in Florida enjoying a good night's rest. And, you know, Kat, Nic, and I are all just dying to talk to his sleeping ass. Rick got a call, Ryan, Tim, Tom, Alan... I'm not entirely sure who else but it's entirely possible I would have called Jesus himself if I'd known the number. And I still don't know what I said to these people. I can only hope James is smart enough to have saved my message- he's not back from Florida yet to share it with me.

Gigi was kind enough to drive me home- she was a DD (a moment of silence is due to her and to Kate, blessed party creatures). I would retrieve my car Sunday afternoon. I suppose not-so-miraculously, I was still drunk when I woke up at 8am to pee Sunday morning. And when I woke up for good around 9, I was just a bit buzzed still but mostly dreading the funeral that awaited me.

If you haven't read about that epic yet, by all means, I'll wait and you can get back to me. But I digress.

After my parents dropped me off after the celebrity deathmatch, still fuming, Gigi picked me up, and she promptly took me to therapy: the local 7-11 where she bought me Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia and Diet Pepsi. Mmmmmm.... and then she took me back to Kat's where they were still nursing hangovers and starting a movie. We brought in Thai for dinner and finally called it a night around eight.

It's only by the grace of God I am not still hungover. I swear when I woke up for work Monday morning I still felt a tinge of the icky. I shit you not.

You know, I've been giving this some thought and Myra and I talked this out yesterday at lunch. There was ice cream, there was dress-up and make-up, there were boys and booze, there was dancing, flirting, recklessness, a near bitch-fight, lethargy, full body massage, hot tubbing... I mean, wasn't this like one of the best weekends ever?

2:44 P.M. - 09.28.04

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