Bachelorette party reslap: MAKE A CIRCLE, MAKE A SCENE

There are no words that can accurately describe my bachelorette party on Saturday night. Except that it's Tuesday and I'm still having trouble remembering how to tie my shoes. If my mother had any suspicions whatsoever about my drinking problems before this weekend, they were most certainly confirmed that night.

First of all, my friends got me this present -- which was probably the best present I've ever gotten in my life -- of ... wait for it ... 13 bottles of HanaHorne wine. They selected a different bottle of wine for different events throughout the next few years, like the bottle B and I will drink on our first anniversary, the bottle I'll drink when I put on all that insane lingerie they bought me, the bottle we'll drink on our first night in our new house, and the bottle I'll drink RIGHT NOW WITH ALL MY BEST GIRLFRIENDS.

Julita designed a unique label for each bottle of wine, and they named them all HanaHorne, which you would find hilarious if you went to college with us and you ever played beer pong against me and B. Trust.

And thus, the party was started.

And by party I mean shots shots shots shots shots to the face.

Naturally, there was a set of rules I had to abide by all night. Like you must squeeze 10 random butts and you must get a new guy to buy you a shot at every bar and you cannot enter a bar unless carried over the threshold by a boy and you must dance with a man over the age of 65 and on and on and on until every male we left in our wake had been degraded as a big slab of man meat in one way or another. Just how we like it.

I went to a college where drinking was not taken lightly. I've since had evenings that have stretched past the sunrise. I've spent entire nights dancing with my best friends. But I have never had a night like this. We made a mothaflipping scene. At the beach. In the restaurant. In the limo. And at every bar we stepped foot into.

And it was all thanks to the hard work and planning of my kick ass and scream obscenities Man of Honor Michael Farrell, some of the best friends in the world, and my mom who learned way more about the sex lives of one group of friends than she probably ever imagined possible.

End of an Era

There's a pee pee on that straw

All mah grlz

The Man of Honor ... off the scale

1 butt down, 9 to go

I swear this was a rule

shots shots shots shots shots

Bachelorette party in progress

More pictures that illustrate my lack of self control to come, I promise. Tweet