This past Sunday,? ten moms plus one? taken woman? booked a? suite at the Marriott in downtown San Diego, used that as home base, then went out on the town for a night of drunken debauchery and badness.? Okay, so maybe there wasn’t much debauchery, but there was plenty of badness in the form of our alcohol-infused stumbling gyrations on the dance floor.? Although I suppose posing as a bachelorette party in hopes of no cover charges and the accompanying must-have plastic penis straw might count as semi-debauched.?
And if someone could please tell me when the current fashion turned to skin-tight dresses cut down to the navel and up to the bikini line, I’d be mighty obliged.? Nina and Michael definitely would not approve.
Or maybe I’m just getting old.? Unfortunately, not quite old enough to ditch the penis straw.
At any rate, here are a few random shots from the night:
“Well what d’ya know, there’s a penis in my purse!”
“Hey, get your own penis!”
The poor? girl seated behind us was obviously jilted at the altar.
Another bar, another bachelorette.
“Do I know you?”
“Don’t bother me–I’m boogeying.”
“Doin’ da butt!”
“No wonder my neck hurts!”
Random cleavage shot.
“Hey look–no hands!”
“Hey look–no twins!”
“I use L’oreal–and I’m worth it.”
?Share on Facebook