I attended a party Friday night. It was a bachlorette party, and it was … shhhh … a party for dirty birdies.
Now, I know this sort of thing is an old hat to most, but I’ve never been to one. I was kidding about the “shhh” though. I think once you give birth, the majority of your bathing-suit area couth kind of goes out the window.
And that, my friend, is where the fun begins.
The evening started off like most other Friday nights. I took the boy over to T’s, so that her groom-to-be could wrangle the McSpidermonkeys out of the house. There are very few commands our sons will not obey if they think there are Golden Arches in their future. As he walked out the door, a curly haired twenty-something walked through the door. She was in the chubby club, too, (of which I am the treasurer). That was a bit of a relief. Being talked to about masturbation and beginner bondage would just be humiliating if the speaker was skinny and gorgeous. Call me crazy, but that’d go from anal beads to Amway in 3.5 seconds. I’m just saying.
As the guests arrived, we ate crackers and cheese while we watched the hostess hang up lingerie. She then brought out the hanging shoe holder full of the widest array of Lube’N’Tune products I’ve ever seen. Are you curious what they are? No worries, fellow gutter-mind dweller. I will be soon be highlighting what will soon be either my favorite products, or the worst way to spend $77 I’ve ever encountered.
As we all settled in, the hostest with the mostest brought out the first product I purchased, which we’ll call … um … Moochie. It’s a shave lotion that keeps razor bumps and ingrown hairs off of your cha-cha doodle! Shut up! I was sold.
By the way, I’m going to use different names so I don’t provoke any copyright shenanigans. We’ll just say that the hostess of this soiree works for a pyramid organization that rhymes with Mumbler Smarties.
Anywho, product two in my bag of goodies was available in stick or tub form, to not only make your headlights shine on high beam, but also to make them taste like either raspberry or watermelon. And, if that wasn’t enough, it doubles as a chapstick! I bought raspberry in a tube, and it rivals every lip balm I’ve ever owned, to include color, shine, smell, and taste.
Next up is a loose powder container of yummy body dust, scented like (Seeing my theme?) raspberry. So I’ll smell good, taste good, and get to look like a fairy? Where do I sign?
Number four was a roller tube of a perfume kind of substance that works with your body chemistry, and contains pheromones. The hostess said that in blind testing, women that wore the product were hit on three times as much as the women that weren’t wearing it. Don’t misunderstand. I am a very happily married woman. But a wink or an ass check-out every once in awhile would be a kick-ass proverbial high-five. Yeah, I know that she was probably lying out of her (what she referred to throughout the party as the) “back door.” Just put me on the next flight to River City, Iowaaaayyyy, and sign me up to buy my kid a fluglehorn.
Five? Five I’m not going to get super descriptive with. I’m just going to put out that it changes temperature with breath and friction. Oh, and it’s caramel flavored.
All in all, as silly as this all was, this party was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It was enjoyable, quiet, calm, and pretty f-ing funny. Some things were just a bit more intense than I would ever consider (the words “Japanese motor” were bandied about more than once), and some just looked downright painful. All in all?
If you’re ever having a f***erware party, consider this my immediate and affirmative RSVP, baby.