I survived the bachelorette party

As I’m writing this, my energy is quickly fading as earlier today, I returned hom from a non-stop weekend of bachelorette party-making. Next weekend, I’m a bridesmaid in a wedding of my one my good high school friends, and so this weekend us girls made our way to Cincinnati from wherever we now call home, piled into cars decorated with pink “Last fling before the ring!” stickers, and drove to Louisville for some serious partying. I haven’t done something like — or drank so much — since college. Yikes. Though, if you’re ever in Louisville and are looking for a good time, Fourth Street is where it’s at.

Though we started at a dueling pianos bar, we somehow ended up spending the majority our night at a country bar, complete with a wall of whiskey and mechanical bull. And oh, so much country music. So, so much country music. I love bluegrass, but this was … country. What the bus drivers would listen to on repeat in junior high in an attempt to euthenize us into good behavior. OK, so they played the cha cha slide. But the entire night served as a good long reminder that I was in Kentucky … x 10.

But you know, alcohol makes a lot of things bearable and even this girl had fun … frat guys, assless chaps and all. If anything, maybe I reconnected with the Redneck Woman that did, after all, grow up in the country with this stuff:

Note: they played this song twice when I was there. I haven’t heard this song since high school. I still remembered all the words. And yes, I still say y’all. But not yee-haw. Sorry Gretchen Wilson.

This song is also a necessity. I do love my girlfriends:

I still don’t know how Kim was able to come up with a dance to this song, with reference to every lyric, on the spot:

But if anything, I think this is the real lesson-learned from the entire weekend:

Sing it to her, Kim. Sing it.


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