The Biggest Birthday Party Ever (A Person or Two Might have Called it a Local Bachelorette Party)

So last Friday, I went to my Birthday Party with two friends. It was fabulous. The bridal store really worked hard to make it the best party possible. Just for me.



Lawyer and Ginger, also known as Maid of Honour and Bride
to be, also known as awesome people to get drunk with.

We entered a beautiful banquet room at one of the best hotels in the city. There was a dance floor, a DJ booth, a Henna tattoo stand, a photo booth, the fashion runway, a lounge area and three separate bars (so I didn't have to wak more than 15 feet to get a cranberry-sourpuss-vodka, which I like to call a Party Hour Sweet & Sour).

There were also a bunch of servers offering hors d'oeuvres, but they kept presenting me with seafood, and I was all Haven't you seen The Little Mermaid? Shame on you for killing Sebastian and Flounder!

 

As soon as I got in, Lawyer started buying me drinks. I had no problems whatsoever with this.

 

After a drink or two and a visit to the photo booth, we watched the fashion show. Since I watch America's Next Top Model, I (irrationally) think I'm an amazing judge of runway-walking skills. This means I spent most of the fashion show critiquing the models for their sub-par walks. 

 

You're supposed to sell me the dress. Work it, damnit!

  

Horrible posture and arms, although great attitude.




After the show, there were multiple draws to win prizes. I won a $10 gift card for a jewelry store where bracelets start at around $150. When I got the card, I was like YAY BIRTHDAY PRESENT! Now I see that its basically like saving 7% or less on an item I couldn't afford unless I stopped spending money on cheese and chocolate. Which, let's face it, is never going to happen.

 

Oh, did I forget to mention that there were multiple half-naked men hired to throw lollipops at women and to socialize with the desperate single bridesmaids and the brides-to-be with low morals?

There was also a stripper that gave shows on her pole and taught some girls (and the half-naked men) some moves.

Sidenote: Before her show, the stripper was just walking around like everyone else. As soon as I saw her, I was like Bing-bing-bing! That's definitely a stripper. Turns out that I don't have much of a gaydar, but I do have a great stripperdar.

Us being women of incredible class, preferred to shun the men and grope each other instead.





There is 100% ass-groping going on in this picture.

We proceeded to drink some more.

 





I asked Ginger if it was appropriate to throw money at them.
She said it totally was.

Afterwards, we hit the dance floor, were I taught Ginger how to dance to Gangam Stye while Lawyer looked on disapprovingy (she is a hipster and absolutely refuses to join in any fads, unless they involve wine). After a while, the party planners kicked us off the dance floor so a Burlesque troop could perform.

Men were invited to attend the party after 10pm, but Andrew refused to join, so I sent him pictures of the show with the message See what you're missing? HALF-NAKED WOMEN SHAKING THEIR BOOBS AND ASSES!

 



We were clearly drunk at this point Also, notice the wasted
woman about to poledance in the background.

The night ended with some good old fashioned dancing to the Spice Girls. Then the girls said it was time to call the boys to take us all to our separate homes, since it would take them half an hour to get to us.

 

Because I was having a blast, I totally forgot that there were free limo rides, so as we got texts that our rides were here, the host of the party announced that the limos had arrived and were ready to take the first batch of drunk-ass girls home. Although I suggested that we could just send the boys back home and take the limo instead, both Lawyer and Ginger pointed out that that decision might lead to unfortunate consequences, such as ridiculously angry boyfriends.

 

Before we left, we took one last picture together:

 

 

This was the first attempt of the last picture of the night:

 

My liver didn't like me the morning after.

In Case you Thought the Crazy Wedding Bitch Left the Building

She definitely hasn't. She's alive and well and still crazy as fuck, making sure Andrew knows I'd like to be an honest woman before I reach menopause.

And what better way to let him know I want to become Mrs. Andrew Hick than by going to a city-wide Bachelorette Party hosted by a local Bridal Gown Boutique for my birthday!

 

HELL NO!

Sidenote: No, his last name isn't actually Hick.

Sidesidenote: After reading my first sidenote outloud, Andrew responded "That would be awesome."

I'M GONNA HAVE A SPARKLY BIRTHDAY!

So this Friday (IN THREE DAYS!), I'm spending the night getting drunk with Bride-to-be Swizzy and two other friends (another BTB and Maid of Honour) surrounded by glitter and gowns. Since this party just happened to fall on my birthday, I'm assuming that they organized this just for me, so I'm going to pretend that it's my own personal wedding-themed birthday party.

I have a feeling some brides might get angry with me by the end of the night.

After getting shitfaced, I plan on using their complimentary drive home because I think they might have gotten a limo, and I want to feel like P. Diddy, minus the ridonkulous amount of name changes. And since I live way out of town, I'm going to get the driver to drop me off exactly at the city limit, and have Andrew drive me the rest of the way home.

A camera will be brought to the event in order to capture the true beauty behind me getting trashed.

Will you be my Brideschicken?

You can probably guess why Andrew and his
parents like him so much.

Today, I expressed to Andrew my desire to go visit his parent's chickens, especially the two little red hens named Red and Green. If you don't know who Red Green is, it's ok. He's a character from an old Canadian comedy show. And I'd rather not know who he is either. If you do know who he is, I'm sorry (And if you know who he is and like him, you're a hick.) Regardless, Red and Green are much cuter than Red Green.

Me: I love those chickens so much, they will be bridesmaids at my wedding!

Andrew: Ooooookay then.

Me: Chances are, a Chicken of Honour has happened before somewhere in the world.

Andrew could not argue.

And lo and behold, look what I found:



Those chickens are like the Freddy Mercury of chickens! MAMA MIA, LET ME GO!

Ok, so it turns out that these are just random chickens held during a bridal photoshoot (which is a new one for me. I had no idea that there was such a thing as a bridal photoshoot. I thought weddings were about the couple, and not just the bride, but I wouldn't know. I HAVEN'T BEEN PROPOSED TO YET.) I really hope that this shoot was done after the actual wedding, because I imagine it would be extremely difficult to clean chicken shit out of a wedding gown. Not that a chicken has ever shit on my blue boho/prairie summer dress before...

Okay, I may have scared Red shitless by hugging her and talking to her excitedly (aka, very loud and high-pitched). 

Note to others: don't treat chickens like puppies. You will be shit on. 

The Ass has Relocated

My one year contract as an Ass expired last week, so my Ass ass said bye bye to marketing and hello to job hunting! Luckily, I was able to find another job right away so that, other than three paid vacation days, I never had an unemployed work day.

You are now looking at a brand new Administrative Assistant!

Sidenote: Well, ok, you're not looking at me at all. Just look at the picture of me on the side bar, or picture me in your head. With clothes on, you pervert.

My job title is the same, only I now work for an Environment firm. Or something like that. Whatever it is, a lot of photocopying is invloved. I basically answer requests for information about the environment in our province. That would include information about specific regions, and the events that may have environmentally impacted that region.

Why the Eff is the octopus looking
for orange juice? Is this a common
occurence?

Unfortunately, I'm on contract yet again, and so am only promised work until the end of October.

Now here's some deets about my new job.

• The office is a frigging maze. You know those labyrinths in your activity books when you were a kid? Yeah, its like that. I have to bring my paperwork down to the HR people, but I got lost trying to find them, so I just gave up and went back to my desk. Office: 1. Christine: 0.
• I'm on a short contract because I'm filling in for someone who is on indefinite sick leave. Which means I'm sitting at the desk of someone who's already established here. The result is me, surrounded by family photos and decorations that are clearly not mine. I would pretend they are, but everyone in the photos/paintings/sculptures is Black, and mostly sporting dreadlocks. And let's face it, although I can dance like I got soul, I'm as White Girl as it gets.

  

  GIMME EVERYTHING YOU GOT, TROLLEY LADY!

• In the afternoon, a trolley comes by with snacks. A FUCKING TROLLEY! It's like I'm in the middle of a train ride to Hogwarts. I almost squealed and asked for a chocolate frog. Instead, I just gave the weirdly-difficult-to-determine-age trolleyman an awkwardly huge smile and walked/skipped by him.  I hope I get into Ravenclaw *fingers crossed*
• In our office building, there's a cafeteria. Bonus: they have an awesome salad buffet. Even better: the salad is super cheap! They make you pay by the weight of your plate; while my salad cost $2 without tax, a small bottle of apple juice and a coconut/chocolate chip cookie cost $3.
• SOMEONE'S GONNA GET SKIN-NY! (I sang that part)
• They didn't have much work for me to do on my first day here (the girl with access to the information requests is on vacation today) so I've been mostly looking at wedding stuff. But now, Andrew can't get mad, because I'm doing it for Swizzy. Because I'm a badass M-O-H. HOW DOES IT FEEL, ANDREW?

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P.S. In case you're wondering how much I need to pay for my salad in Wizarding money, here's a currency converter: http://www.hp-lexicon.org/wizworld/galleons.html

Answer: My salad would have cost 3 Sickles and 17 Knuts, tax included.

GUESS WHO'S GETTING MARRIED?

Not me.



That honour goes to my best friend! I'll call her Switzerland, because she's so good at being neutral during conflicts. She's been my friend since we were two years old, so she's pretty much family.

So Switzerland was proposed to two days ago by a guy who loves her and makes her happy.

Congrats to the happy couple!

Now, here's my news.

I'M A MAID OF HONOUR, BITCHES!

I have no idea what that really means, other than I'm in charge of hiring strippers for the Bachelorette Party and I'll have to hold her dress up while she pees on the big day.

Other responsibilities I can think up include:

• Making sure Swizzy's wedding dress doesn't look anything like this.

• Kicking the ass of anyone who stresses her out during the planning and actual wedding.
• Being her Bitch until the ceremony and reception is over. From that point on, the Bitch title will be taken over by her new husband.
• While I loved the movie Bridesmaids, I promise not to recreate it in any way. That includes not taking strange pills during the flight down to the location.

Not me.

• Making sure it's the best day of her life.

Anybody else been a Maid of Honour/Honor before? What the hell else do you do?

Mini Stories.

• A couple of nights ago, we were taking Lucy outside before going to bed when she suddenly bolted into the dark. While Andrew was rummaging for a flashlight (being a 90% black dog, she's really hard to spot at nighttime), muttering that he was going to "kick Lucy's ass", Lucy ran back home... with quills all over her face. I guess she tried to make friends with a porcupine, but it wasn't interested in meeting a 60 pound mass of excitement barreling at full speed.

While looking for photos of porcupines, most of the search results are pictures of hedgehogs labelled as "baby porcupines". I have never been more disapointed in humanity.

Outcome: We had to call Andrew's parents (waking them up) to bring over giant tweezers/pliers and help take out all of the quills. We really needed the help too: it took all of Andrew's strength to hold Lucy down while his dad was doing the tweezing. It took an entire hour. Andrew was litterally drenched in sweat by the time it was done.

• While attempting to find Lucy some extra water to put in her pen for the day, I met with a giant garter snake. It was longer than my arm. I yelled "GAHHYULLLLLLLLSGHHSS" (the closest approximation to the sound I made) and ran away. I then proceeded to shudder during the entire morning ride to work. 

Update: Andrew lifted the wooden plank next to the shed where I had met the snake and found three snakes. I am never going anywhere near the shed for the rest of my life.

• My friend Lawyer (a super academic that is a hick at heart) has decided for me that she is going to plan Andrew and I's wedding. Not that we're engaged; Lawyer just likes to think ahead.





A wedding not planned by Lawyer.

Ok, I totally am thinking ahead too: just go visit my Pinterest board labelled "Wedding Ideas". It's way too ridiculously large to be considered normal. There's probably more pins on my board than the boards of women who are actually engaged and in the midst of planning their wedding. It's definitely an issue.

Anyways, Lawyer hasn't gotten too far in the planning stages, but has pitched to me her main ideas. They are: pink and camo wedding dress and decor, moonshine and shotguns, beer and a banjo player. I agreed to the beer. Maybe the banjo player too. Cause saying the word "banjo" is fun. Banjo.

GUESS WHO'S MEETING RANDY FROM SAY YES TO THE DRESS?

THIS BITCH IS!

Madness?

I just bought the tickets.

I AM SO PUMPED FOR THIS!

I removed the refereces to my city. Because there has to be one of you that's a little more coocoo for cocoa puffs than
they should be. 4 out of 5 psychologist agree that 1 in 30 followers are coocoo for cocoa puffs.  But really, you could still find me if you tried hard enough. If you do, bring me a peacock.

HELLOOOOOOOOOOO 70s!

I Can be So Sneaky Sneaky.

Last night, while drawing up a potential guest list for my future wedding, I asked Andrew this:

...If we were throwing a party, let's say, a really big party, who would you invite?...

He should have seen through the question immediately, which would have most likely got me grounded again for being wedding crazy. But the Wedding Gods distracted him using Call of Duty. (Thank you, Wedding Gods.) He actually answered me, giving me a few more people to add to our list.

It wasn't until an hour later, while I was cleaning out the litter box, that Andrew came running over saying "YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT OUR WEDDING, WEREN'T YOU?"

Bazinga!

I warded him off by repeatedly yelling "I have cat poop! I have cat poop! I will use it!" He backed away (such is the power of cat poop).

Crazy Wedding Planner: 1

Andrew: 0

Yes, I'm Still Looking at Wedding Stuff, Andrew. But this is just AMAZING.

Holy shit everyone.

This has to be the absolute BEST engagement photoshoot I have ever seen. EVER.

EVER.

Check it out. You will not regret it.

You can better see the photos at http://www.amandarynda.com/2011/08/zombie-engagement-photos/.

You can also find the photographer's Tumbler account and read awesome comments at http://mlkshk.com/p/69H1. But mainly read the comments. The people who criticize the use of weapons and accuse the photographer of setting up the couple for a death by Zombie are my new best friends.

Other than wanting to get married, THIS is now the number one reason to get engaged.

I am 22 Years Old, and I'm Currently Being Grounded

Yes, it's true. I've been grounded. By my boyfriend.

Why? Because I told him that I wanted to go try out wedding dresses.


Like this one. Or the gazillion others I have found online.

See? This could be me, ANDREW!

When I told this to Andrew, he was a little (a lot) displeased, seeing that we're not even engaged yet. Apparently, while watching tons of bridal shows and having an entire board in Pinterest dedicated to wedding ideas is completely okay, voicing my desire to wear white lace gowns that just happen to be wedding dresses is "taking things too damn far, Christine!"

JER-RY, JER-RY, JER-RY!

While at work, I became inspired by the Wedding Gods. I immediately emailed Andrew.

From: "Christine"
To: <Andrew>
Subject: Summary: Your girlfriend is nuts.

If ever we get married, I want a live peacock at the wedding. Which we then keep, and name Jerry.

Since we've already talked about owning chickens for their eggs, I thought Jerry would be the perfect addition to our aviary family. Hell, he could replace the rooster! That way, there would be any annoying crowing at every hour of the day (Fact: Roosters have no concept of time). Although, I don't actually know what sound a peacock makes... Plus, if there were any allegations of incestuous cheating or granny strippers, Jerry could run a talk show. This was the answer I got from Andrew.

From: "Andrew"
To: <Christine>
Are you completely off your rocker ?lol

That "lol" is being taken as a "maybe".

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UPDATE: I have found their call. They sound like total pussies. Maybe I'll just hire that guy at the end of the movie instead.