T-to-the-A

Penis Straw

In The Daily Drool on March 26, 2010 at 10:46 am

Yes, you read that correctly.  Here’s the deal: last night was my dear friend Nicky’s Bachelorette party.  Now, Nicky is doing it up big this year, not only is she marrying her best friend and long time love, but they’re also having a baby!  So, with baby bump leading the way, we couldn’t do anything that got us into too much trouble… or so I thought.

The night began with riotous giggles over the hilarious Mac-A-Weenie pasta (Last time this little culinary magic made its appearance was at JJ’s bachelorette party.  She got a box of the stuff as a gag, and apparently put it in her pantry.   About three months after that, while making pasta salad for our Thanksgiving pot luck, she ran out of noodles and decided, out of sheer necessity,  to use the box of penis pasta.  A good male friend of mine at the party was really digging the flavor until he looked closer and sputtered a little something like this “Mmm, yeah, everything is really goo- what is that?  Is that…That looks like a c*ck.   What kind of macaroni salad is this?”  Well played, JJ, well played!) 

We also had a blast with the penis tattoos, everyone had to stick one on- cleavage, shoulder, FACE.  Yes, my bestest friend forever and ever, put hers on her cheek.  This is just one of the many reasons I love that girl!  She’s got balls.  Literally.  Right there on her face.

Anyway, the night was a big success, and we all laughed our pretty little a$$es off. 

But then there were the straws…  the glow-in-the-dark penis-shaped straws (with, I’m afraid to say, some fairly unshapen balls) that we drank our sangria from.  Yes, it was ridiculous, yes it was fun, yes it took me a drink or two before I could actually bring myself to use it… but use it I did – and then grab them we did, as we took ourselves, and our straws, to the piano bar and fresh drinks down the way. 

And this bar…  it was rife, no, make that RIFE, with pups… “I just turned 21”  kind of pups.  We were like cougars-in-training, and we got hit on ALL NIGHT LONG.  Now, how about that for ego boost?  10 years older than everyone in the bar, and still drawing ’em in like flies.  It was fantastic. 

We drank our new drinks with our special straws, and laughed when the guy talking to Nicky thought her wedding ring and baby bump were sexy enough to lean in even closer.  It was grand.

Only, I didn’t drink my new drink with my special straw because I couldn’t find it – thinking it had sunk to the nether reaches of that bottomless-pit I call a purse, or else fallen out on the walk over – I sipped from the glass like a, well, like a lady.

Then this morning (and here’s where all of this pays off)  I had a meeting with two older gentleman on a project I am writing.  I had a meeting in which I needed to take notes.  I had a meeting in which I had to rummage through the bottomless-pit-I-call-a-purse for a pen, and damn if that little punk-ass bit of leather and mystery didn’t spit the Penis Straw right out on the table where it bounced not just once, but twice, and then did a little spin before clattering to the hard-wood floor.

Glow-in-the-dark penis-straw at our feet.

Try explaining that. 

Just T-R-Y!

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  1. OH MY GOD! Are you serious? I’m crying I’m laughing so hard!!!

  2. Still laughing! THANKS!

  3. That is AWESOME! I can’t tell you how many nights in the bar I had to deal with those d*mn straws. Anytime we saw a gaggle of girls come sweeping in carting those, word would go down the line – BACHELORETTE PARTY, WATCH OUT! IT’S ATTACK OF THE PENIS STRAWS!

  4. HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!! That is amazing!!!!! I love you Tiff! I am sitting here at work cracking up! I love it!!!!!!

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