Saturday night I went to a bachelor/bachelorette party. It was not called a “Romeo/Juliet” party and thank Jennifer Hudson’s Bad Weave, because I get irritated whenever that label’s used to describe a coed pre-wedding get down because, hello, didn’t anyone read the play? Or watch the Claire Danes/Leonardo DiCaprio movie past the part where they make out? Most people know how it ends, right? Without wikipedia-ing it? I don’t know if I want to live in a world where people think Romeo and Juliet are the latest additions to the Gossip Girl cast (I say this after raving about Sex and the City. That’s right! I own my rave. No shame in my game.)
The party was wild! People stayed up after 9 PM! No one talked about Andy Rooney’s desk or agreed that rubber bands are the best invention ever. There was a game where the women were given rice krispie mix to mold into an anatomically correct wang. (New from Parker Brothers: Wang Games!)
Guess who won?
I took home two pairs of his and her chocolate thongs which is just great because I plan to wear them while singing the Willy Wonka theme song, only I’m going to say Willy Wangka! Because every day I ask the question, “What would a 12-year-old South Park fan do?”
I might not wear them at all and simply top them off with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. How raggedy am I to look at chocolate panties and wonder how they’ll taste stirred into a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough?