somewhere in las vegas there is a young man with one less pair of flannel boxers in his closet, a hotel maintenance man cursing the brightly colored feathers clogging up the industrial vacuum, and a bartender who learned to make a new cocktail thanks to the expertise of some ladies who came by on a mission.
this is the aftermath left by over a dozen young women running rampant in the city of sin to celebrate their dear friend/cousin/sister’s last weeks being single. a bachelorette party of monstrous proportions.
i confess i was a part of it. i was one of the annoying girls who giggled and pointed and spoke a little too loudly. i was annoyed, myself, until i had a cocktail or two, and then all of a sudden everything seemed like a brilliant idea.
i would tell you more, but then i’d have to kill you, and besides, a true lady knows that she has got to keep some secrets.