The Kittens? Apparently they tire easily . . .

** Please note that Blogger is acting crazy and keeps deleting stuff like links, photos and text I add. It is making me crazy and is taking more of my time than I have the sanity to deal with. So I am publishing as is becauseI can't mess with this anymore . ***

As previously mentioned Saturday night was my sister's bachelorette party. I am happy to say I still hold the rights to the most fun bachelorette party ever--at least that I have attended. I only bring this up because everyone who knows me knows that I pretty much think of everything as a competition (especially where I get to win-- which is seldom, but not in this instance.) And I suppose, that is as it should be. I should also give credit to Meme because she is the one who threw me one hell of a Bachelorette party.

The past few weeks I must admit have somewhat bemoaned the bachelorette party. Don't get me wrong, I do love a party but seriously, the madness must at some point must end: I am 36, married and have 2 kids. I am also pretty gung ho on all my marathon/triathlon training. So the prospects of a long night on the town of all out partying just didn't have the appeal to me as it once did. And appeal it once did. Nonetheless I pepped talked myself into a night of debauchery and was ready to hang.


From the left--Me!, Captain Morgan, Kristy, Bride (Pookie), Rae, ABBA, and Fishstick. There was suppose to be Mel and Meredith but they had sinus infections. Celina bailed. And Peru, Monique and I believe a few others were meeting up with us later in the evening.

We started the evening at Fuego's for tapas and cocktails.Very yummy! Captain Morgan brought Bride a "Bride-to-be" sash. Bride, however, was very specific about not wearing veils or penises on her head or doing anything bachlorette like except the drinking and dancing. But after much coercion she agreed to wear said sash for just one picture.

Of course I--jealous of pink attention garnering sash-- insisted on trying it on and pretending to be a Bride of the Year and stating my platform--which I have no idea what I said but I am sure it was not terribly clever. Everyone else liked this idea too and also tried sash on and said stated their platform.

Fishstick's was kung fu fighting.

I believe Rae
And Kristy's platforms were hints to their boyfriends.
I can't tell you what ABBA's was.

Or Captain Morgan. Not appropriate content.
In response to this I ordered an espresso martini heavy on the vodka and espresso.

After all the silliness Bride told me that she wanted to go to Opera (which I knew was the plan as I arranged with her other friends to put us on the guest list) but then she also wanted to hit the Cleremont Lounge and then MJQ's.

Yeah! I was totally down for MJQ's. Ryan and I cut a serious rug there after the Pixies a few years ago. And not since the days of Disco Hell at the old 40 Watt and those grandly fun nights at the Star Bar with Dj Romeo Cologne (yes, I have a soft spot for the dives) have I had so much dancing. I do love to boogie. But the Clermont Lounge is a completely different matter. Yes it is absolutely a dive but it is one of the dirtiest places I have every been in. I have been there once and have no desire to revisit. I should mention that my visit to the Clermont was when I was 6 weeks pregnant with Beau and doing the not telling dance of early pregnancy. So I was also sober. Pregnancy and sobriety are 2 states you don't want to be rocking at the Clermont.

I hear you Atlanta. I know what you are thinking. It is The Clermont Lounge. And I know it is an Atlanta must go at least once landmark. But it is so, so disgustingly dirty. Dirty on so many dark and subterranean levels. And for those of you unfamiliar with exactly what the Clermont Lounge is let me be the first to tell you: It is the darkest hole of strip clubs. It the strip club of where women who have no business taking off their clothes do. And as if that isn't enough they then do things like crush beer cans with various body parts--you know, like their boobs. I think there is even one stripper there who is like 60 or so.

So like I said, not a place you want to go pregnant or sober. The memory and the frightening images I saw at my visit to the Clermont are burned a little clearer than I think anyone would want on their brain.

I digress. It happens. A lot, I know. So what happened next? Well, we finished our dinner and drinks and headed across the street to Opera. It is the old Eleven50 and is tres fancy. Cover I hear is $25. We, thanks to Bride's roommate who tends bar and her other friend Peru whose husband is an investor or somehow connected got us on the guest list and V.I.P passes. I am not exactly sure what the V.I.P passes did for us other than to permit us to walk up and down a lot of stairs. Seems we did that. A lot.

Here are some of the pictures of us at Opera.


Me and Fishstick on the terrace making out. Okay, not really. But only because she would have nothing to do with me. Please know I am kidding. Mom. Ryan. Jason.

Playing with the "retro" setting on my camera:



Captain Morgan doing his best James Dean.


And the Bride, about 5 minutes before she turned into a pumpkin.


And thus ended the night of dancing for me and Fishstick. Everyone else stayed and carried the party on. Fishstick and I carried the Bride home.