Bachelorette parties are a tricky business. It’s easy to misunderstand the assignment and biddies seem to be thinking of more and more tacky, extravagant, and nonsensical activities and getups to make their debauchery-filled girls weekend especially over the top and profoundly BASIC. SHAME. Really, Kris? If you think that Babygirl and Linda would be caught dead in this scenario you are huffing paint and I probably don’t like you.
As I’m now a seasoned professional bridesmaid, I may or may not be the living, jaded authority on #lastflingbeforethering – where to go, who to invite, who to blackball, what to eat latenight, who should make the playlist (ME), who’s boyfriend’s friend’s roommate is having a nearby bachelor party, and what to strategically avoid, like going bankrupt. Because let’s face it, the wedding industry is a racket and we single folk end up getting f-ed in the bridal bungus. The only real excitement in celebrating a friend or relative’s union (besides obvi loving them and being happy for the couple, whatever happiness is…) is to somehow finagle a seemingly attractive groomsmen to be your dancefloor boyfriend – one who hopefully has a good back story and doesn’t smell like mediocrity and Muenster cheese who you later awkwardly bump into at the Frying Pan with his girlfriend in tow. I mean…
Anywhodiddle, here’s our Part 1 of our wedding adventure musings. Do’s and Don’ts of Bach-ing like a pro.
- Charleston – Why does every engaged chick choose Chucktown? BECAUSE IT IS AWESOME. ACCENTS! Unless you hate fun, perfect beaches, Southern gentlemen, dank dank meaty grub, live bands, and mischief. Then don’t bother. Festivus Recco: THE WASHOUT at Folly. Mahalo, y’all.
- Excedrin – Mixes well with shame, lost dreams, and SPRITE!
- Matching or Themed Gear – I know, I know. There’s a fine line here. But letting your friends wear all black is a goddamn kindness, no matter the occasion. OR, if you’re really legit, choose costumes – Boogie Nights (Bride as Roller Girl!), Sorority era OWU School Girls circa 2006, Pirate getups (You’re welcome, Marjorie), or IRONIC matching tops. Festivus Recco: Matching crop tops that say “Bride’s last chance at the Clap!”
- Tiki Bus – Arrange fun transportation waaaay in advance. A Hoola-themed coach bus is the only way to travel. Unless you’re going to East Hampton via Blade. That works too, I guess.
- Rent a House or Apartment – Hotels are cesspools of overpriced nonsense and dead Hookers. Trust me, I’ve been to some rural cesspools in my day. Staying in a house is usually cheaper, more fun, and creates a sense of community with your motley crew of dumb dumbs who probably don’t know each other that well. What better way to break the ice then by meeting your other bridesmaids in their grannies while playing Catchphrase before the evening adventures begin?
- Keep the Group Below 12 – You know the phrase “clown car of lies” or “herding cats” or “Army of Skanks” or perhaps “Dear God Why?” Keep it to your GOT Small Council. Randos can be additive, but usually are the last to Venmo and the first to bring back the bartender or worse, SWOOP.
- Penis Straws – Tacky. Like you’ve never seen a dong before?
- Never Have I Ever – Snooze.
- Go out to dinner in a group of 7+ – Unless you’re in a private room. A large group of late-20/early 30s in skank tanks on a Bach downing Cosmos and screaming weird things while nom noming on sush is like setting the other patron’s meals and enjoyment on fire and NOT in a Benihana kind of way.
Finally…Here’s a tip from me to you: if you think your friend’s Bach is going to suck something awful, and none of your friends are going, AND it’s expensive, back away. No, run – run for your life like Bob Durst in a latex mask and Walmart wig is chasing you through Katonah.