The bachelorette party was a

Mistakes:
Eating a dinner consisting solely of cheese, crackers, penis cake, and 5 martinis.

Thinking burlesque show started at 9:30. In fact, there was a comedy duo on stage when we got there and we were informed dancey people wouldn't start for another two hours. Comedy. Duo. This was not what I had in mind.

Bonuses:
Krista was picked out of the audience to play a Price is Right-type game involving random objects from a cheap convenience store. She correctly guessed the orange cleaner was cheaper than the Mexican marshmallows. T-shirts and posters are won.

Comedy duo broke for a few minutes and we were treated to Albino Andy, who sang "Crimson and Clover" for us. We were just drunk enough to think this was the best thing EVER and immediately decided we needed to find karaoke asap.

Revelations:
"Copacabana" is a SAD song. Lola ends up with faded feathers! And a drinking problem! Clearly, I haven't listened to this song thoroughly while sober.

It doesn't matter that there are male and female, featured and chorus parts to "Summer Nights." You can sing the whole song from start to finish doing all the parts.

Miriam prefers Britney, but went for the Jackson Five. And surprise! Liz likes singing along to lil' Michael, too! Are there no end to the songs that are great for karaoke? (Answer: Pink Floyd, "Comfortably Numb")

Ratio of glasses of water consumed by Krista and myself to alcoholic beverages: 1:20

Dancing scenes initiated:
We might have walked into an empty bar basement, but no one sees four halos and a set of wedding veiled devil horns head down the stairs without KNOWING that a party is about be thrown down. I spent approximately five minutes with each bartender telling them how I had good friends who worked at this bar and isn't that FUNNY, and they spent approximately five minutes each nodding politely and ignoring me completely.

We all danced. A lot.

Mistakes that came back to bite me in the ass later:
Remember dinner? Well apparently when you follow up that dinner with roughly 47 drinks, there ways your stomach has of suggesting that perhaps there were wiser decisions you could have made. Luckily, I was home by that point and coherent enough to have this discussion in the bathroom.

Bachelorette gear that make hilarious cat toys the next day:
Fuzzy halos, tiny rubber penis that went on a straw. Okay, I had to take the penis away because that was just too much.

Obligatory parting shot of drink container. Because what would this post be without one last giant penis?