Monday, May 17, 2004
Great weekend!!!
Well – I survived the three day bachelorette weekend. Barely. Three of us went up on Thursday night, and the other three came up Friday. We got in to the house on Tybee around 9:30 pm. We were pretty tired, and were pleased to discover that EA’s aunt had the place fully stocked with food, beer, and wine. So we decided to keep it relaxed, play cards, drink, and chat. So we opened one of the two bottles…no…not bottles…MAGNUMS of cheap wine in the fridge and filled our plastic cups full while we played gin. Yes, not a very exciting start to a bachelorette weekend, I know. We’re a pretty tame group, what can I say? So it wasn’t too long before the first bottle (magnum) of wine is gone, so EA opens up the second. The first clue to our state of drunkenness came when the conversation turned to things that would make the “sex in the city” girls blush.
Blow job techniques, sex positions, size, who was best, who was worst…nothing was sacred. It wasn’t too long before the second bottle (magnum) was dry. EA cracked out the beers, and the conversations continued. A small voice in the back of my head was saying “beer? I don’t drink beer!” Card game long forgotten, we downed seven beers between the three of us (remember, this is after the wine)
Don’t want to get the boys excited here. Nothing of a video store porno nature happened here. We stumble to our SEPARATE beds around 3am, woke up surprisingly alert the next morning, and lounged on the beach sipping mimosas and vodka tonics and waited for the remaining 3 girls to show up.
That night we ate dinner at a local seafood place, and then really started the evening in a bar called “scandals,” which sounds like a gay bar, but which was instead inhabited by little old ladies in pantsuits sitting at the bar drinking god knows what, and some assorted locals. The “cover band” consisted of a husband and wife team, who serenaded us with some standard southern classics, as well as some more modern hits (weird). We kept downing drinks and shots to get a pleasant buzz on, while we cheered on the 74 year old woman who was tearing up the dance floor.
We stumbled on over to a nearby hotel which proudly boasted the “dolphin lounge,” a karaoke bar. We were a hit. There was a bunch of 22 year old guys there who claimed they were in the army at the local base, and were going to ship out to iraq in a month. Could be true, could be a line, who knows. In between performances, the DJ was playing your standard booty bumping tunes. Then our names were called for the first song. Two of the previously mentioned guys cheered us on and stated that they would dance to whatever we sang. Well, we sang “dancing queen.” The look on their faces was priceless, but to their credit, they danced through the whole song. We stumbled back to the house after last call, drank for another hour, then passed out.
The next morning, again, surprisingly alert, we continued drinking and laying on the beach. That night we drove into Savannah and had dinner at a pretty expensive steakhouse. Then we wandered around trying to find this piano bar called “savannah smiles” to meet up with EA’s cousin and his wife. The piano bar was a little disappointing, so we were going to leave and head to river street. But EA spotted the dance club “déjà vu” next door, and wanted to dance. Groan. It was a cheesy, skeezy dance club, with skanky girls and loser boys, black lights and fluorescent paint, and booty music. The kind of club you went to in college. Not my scene. Not any of our scenes, but EA was adamant, and it was her party. KW kept the liquor pouring down her throat, in the hopes that she would get drunk enough to want to leave. Nope, we were there until 1:30 – with four of us leaning against the back wall, people watching and desperately trying to avoid scary drunk guys.
So I didn’t get to walk around savannah much. Oh well, I want to go again this summer with K. Stay at a cheap hotel on tybee, and just relax while he fishes on the beach. Nice.
So aside from being really really really tired Sunday night, and most of today, I am surprisingly unscathed. Just some UV damaged, and a skinned knee – a souvenir from Friday night, when we were walking to the karaoke bar, drunk, and I got distracted by a building that had paintings of hanging flower baskets on the side, and I tripped on the curb. Did I mention I was drunk?
// ranted by evilsciencechick @ 5/17/2004 09:37:00 PM
Blow job techniques, sex positions, size, who was best, who was worst…nothing was sacred. It wasn’t too long before the second bottle (magnum) was dry. EA cracked out the beers, and the conversations continued. A small voice in the back of my head was saying “beer? I don’t drink beer!” Card game long forgotten, we downed seven beers between the three of us (remember, this is after the wine)
Don’t want to get the boys excited here. Nothing of a video store porno nature happened here. We stumble to our SEPARATE beds around 3am, woke up surprisingly alert the next morning, and lounged on the beach sipping mimosas and vodka tonics and waited for the remaining 3 girls to show up.
That night we ate dinner at a local seafood place, and then really started the evening in a bar called “scandals,” which sounds like a gay bar, but which was instead inhabited by little old ladies in pantsuits sitting at the bar drinking god knows what, and some assorted locals. The “cover band” consisted of a husband and wife team, who serenaded us with some standard southern classics, as well as some more modern hits (weird). We kept downing drinks and shots to get a pleasant buzz on, while we cheered on the 74 year old woman who was tearing up the dance floor.
We stumbled on over to a nearby hotel which proudly boasted the “dolphin lounge,” a karaoke bar. We were a hit. There was a bunch of 22 year old guys there who claimed they were in the army at the local base, and were going to ship out to iraq in a month. Could be true, could be a line, who knows. In between performances, the DJ was playing your standard booty bumping tunes. Then our names were called for the first song. Two of the previously mentioned guys cheered us on and stated that they would dance to whatever we sang. Well, we sang “dancing queen.” The look on their faces was priceless, but to their credit, they danced through the whole song. We stumbled back to the house after last call, drank for another hour, then passed out.
The next morning, again, surprisingly alert, we continued drinking and laying on the beach. That night we drove into Savannah and had dinner at a pretty expensive steakhouse. Then we wandered around trying to find this piano bar called “savannah smiles” to meet up with EA’s cousin and his wife. The piano bar was a little disappointing, so we were going to leave and head to river street. But EA spotted the dance club “déjà vu” next door, and wanted to dance. Groan. It was a cheesy, skeezy dance club, with skanky girls and loser boys, black lights and fluorescent paint, and booty music. The kind of club you went to in college. Not my scene. Not any of our scenes, but EA was adamant, and it was her party. KW kept the liquor pouring down her throat, in the hopes that she would get drunk enough to want to leave. Nope, we were there until 1:30 – with four of us leaning against the back wall, people watching and desperately trying to avoid scary drunk guys.
So I didn’t get to walk around savannah much. Oh well, I want to go again this summer with K. Stay at a cheap hotel on tybee, and just relax while he fishes on the beach. Nice.
So aside from being really really really tired Sunday night, and most of today, I am surprisingly unscathed. Just some UV damaged, and a skinned knee – a souvenir from Friday night, when we were walking to the karaoke bar, drunk, and I got distracted by a building that had paintings of hanging flower baskets on the side, and I tripped on the curb. Did I mention I was drunk?
