We should have known how things would go when we insisted on wearing the Snooki pouf.

Last weekend, I was in a wedding.  I spent the whole weekend at the hotel – where both the ceremony and reception happened.  I want to go on record as saying that I am recalling events exactly as they occurred or were related to me.  Despite my state of mind at times, I do remember everything (in other words, I NEVER PASSED OUT).

Cast of players:

Bride and Groom

Bridesmaids (Kristina, Cassie, Shalisha, Shelly, and me – these are real names as I don’t have the savvy or energy to make up pseudonyms)

Groomsmen (Pat, Freiss, Chris, Greg, Bryan – also real names)

Friday night was the rehearsal.  It was pretty quick and painless…except for my feet because I wore these:

50' housewife, I am not

I had on the appropriate hosiery, however.  For the time being.

After the rehearsal, we were taking a shuttle to the Groom’s parents’ house for dinner, etc.  The phrase “shuttle bus” was used.  I totally expected a downtown bus or something.  I don’t really know.

Anyway, while we were waiting for the shuttle in front of the hotel, the wedding planner (Mitch) came out with a bottle of champagne for us.  The bridesmaids (sporting Snooki poufs… sorta) were all over this shit.  I asked Mitch if we could drink it now and when he said we could do “whatever we wanted”, that bottle was open for business.  We passed it around like a bunch of drunken teenagers in an alley.  Meanwhile, we could not help but notice that the groomsmen were studiously quiet.  Of course, we were starting to play out our own version of Bridesmaids Gone Wild, so we were all like, “what’s up with them?”  (Don’t worry.  We brought them around.)

Enter the “shuttle bus”.

Shuttle bus or porn bus?

Bitch, please.

The first thing out of my mouth as we boarded the bus was “this looks like the setting for a porn movie”.  Followed by, “hells yeah…there’s more champagne!”

If you look closely, you can see a pole

That bus was not only tricked out with, of all things, a FRIGGIN LIGHT SHOW, but it also had more booze.  I grabbed a bottle, and one of the groomsmen grabbed a bottle and we both opened them.  I am awesome at opening champagne.  I am a CHAMP at it.  So, I was doing my thing and being awesome when one of the other groomsmen said (to the guy opening a bottle), “oh man, she’s beating you”.

THIS IS WHERE IT STARTED.  The insane competitive streak that never ended.  Keep this in mind.


And then we got to the very nice house…


By the time we got to our destination, we were half in the bag.  And, oh, hey…look everyone!  A catered event with AN OPEN BAR.

Cassie, Shalisha, and I immediately got in line to get drinks.  I think I ordered Sprite and vodka…10 times?  Who knows.  Who cares.  All I know is that I hiked up my pantyhose one time too many and RIP.  Not knowing my own strength when I have been drinking, I decimated these things.  I was wearing no more than a girdle with strings.

Crap.  I forgot to bring my spare pair.  Now what?

I consulted with Cassie and Shalisha (blind leading the blind, anyone?) as to what to do.

They suggested I take them off.  I said, “do you really think I should?”  Cassie asked, “well, do you smell?”

Me:  “No, I don’t smell.”  (I really didn’t smell, but is there any other acceptable answer to that question???)

So, I took off my pantyhose.  And until I tell you I don’t wear underwear with pantyhose, you’re probably thinking, “what’s the big deal?”


Yes.  A skirt, no underwear, and me.


This might have been ok.  This might have worked out fine.  IF.  If.  I.  Had.  Not.  Announced.  This.  To.  Everyone.  I.  Talked.  To.

You know how it is when you’re drunk.  Everyone is your best friend and you want to tell them secrets.

“Oh, mother of the groom, what a lovely home you have.  And silly me, my pantyhose ripped so I had to take them off but I had no underwear on so now I am not wearing anything under here.  Hehe.”

Classy, Heather.  Classy.

I also don’t think it helped my case to not only announce it but to announce it in a stage whisper and then tell people to be discreet.  “I have nothing on under here.  Shh!  Keep it on the down low.”


WTF, Heather.  Why are you such an ass?  I don’t know the answer to that question.  Moving on…


Pretty much everyone was a good sport (especially the next day) and, if anyone was talking smack about me, they were nice enough to do it behind my back.


And then I picked on the sweetest person there…


One of the people there was the sister of two of the groomsmen.  Sweet, young girl – who is very very pretty.  And tall.  I had met her before when visiting the Bride once.

The Bride and I both looked at her and simultaneously bellowed; “Why are you so tall?  WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING TALL??”

Because in addition to having a set of these:

These are not her actual legs - only an approximation

She was wearing something like these:

Also not the real deal, but as close as I could find

All in all, they made her 17 feet tall.

And I kid you not, but this girl apologized.  She apologized to us for being too tall and statuesque.  At one point, she actually changed her shoes.  Because she did this, I called her my BFF for the rest of the night.

“Hey BFF!  Whassup, gurrrrrrrrrlllllllll?”  (I fucking hate myself even just writing that.)

But I also called her “Skinny Bitch” for the rest of the night.  (I hate myself even more.)

“Hey Skinny Bitch!  Why are you so skinny, Skinny Bitch?”

All of this she put up with gracefully and with good humor.  Despite being called Skinny Bitch by a short round girl not wearing underwear under her skirt.


And then Cassie, Shalisha, and I got in trouble…


Towards the end of the night (when I was confident everyone knew about my lack of underwear), Cassie, Shalisha, and I went outside.  We had been told that the porn bus was coming soon.

Not soon enough.  Cassie suggested we go get inside the caterer’s van.  So, we did.  And we took pictures.  And then the Bride came out and yelled at us.

“What are you DOING?  You know how I knew you were in the catering van???  The CATERERS TOLD ME.”


I found out later that the Bride had been inside asking people, “has anyone seen the bridesmaids???”  The caterers, without making eye contact, were all like, “they’re…um…outside.”


Before we could defend ourselves (or blame each other), the shuttle showed up.

There was a bit of drama because Shalisha did not want to get on the bus without the bartender Jason, all the while shouting, “it’s not cheating on my husband if I just want to spoon with Jason!!!  GO GET JASON!  I WANT JASON!”


And then the porn bus earns its name…

No, there was no sex.  But there was dancing!

We spent the ride back playing dance music and trying to rock out on a moving vehicle.  There may have been a moment when I was reaching for the ceiling (the only place with handles) to stabilize myself and risked showing my ladyparts, but I refuse to linger on that thought.

Cassie did some enviable moves where she grabbed the ceiling AND put her feet on the seat so she could gyrate in front of someone.  Shalisha described it perfectly when she said the next day that Cassie kept “shoving her kooka in people’s faces”.

This is when we realized that we were living the Snooki dream.


I swear to you, the night started to move in flashes of images where people did crazy shit and we laughed and then realized we were the people doing the crazy shit we were laughing at.


And then we held out far too long…


When we got back to the hotel that night, we lost Shalisha.  She went to bed, still grousing about how we left without Jason.

We ended up drinking in the hotel bar.  Bridesmaids vs. Groomsmen.  Not to the death, but to THE PAIN.

There ensued a lot of trash talking, laying the smack down, and the like…all about how “we can outlast you”… blah blah.

At one point, I looked at Friess and said, “Dude, I have 10 years of drinking on you.  Wait… How old are you?  I have 12 years of drinking on you.  You won’t beat me.”  Nevertheless, he kept saying, “we’re winning” and when I asked what exactly made him think they were winning he replied, “well, we’re not losing.”

Good point.

Anyway, when they challenged our drinking prowess, we reminded them that THEY had been drinking beer all night and the ladies had been drinking hard liquor.  So, the groomsmen said they’d do a shot.  We agreed this might be an acceptable way to prove their manhood, but we insisted on watching them do the shots.

After they did the shots, we asked what it was.

Are you ready?



I think I may have peed a little from the laughing, and then I turned to one of them and asked, “did that shot hurt your vagina?


Not being ones to back down from challenges, when the bride suggested that we bridesmaids should get to bed, Shelly and I were both like, “We’ll sit here until we die before we let those ladies outlast us.  Til we FUCKING DIE.”

drinks you might see the Groomsmen partaking in - before they go buy tampons

Bridesmaids might drink this...but it is NOT amaretto

For the record, my feet were the last ones to leave that bar.  The Groomsmen still insist somehow they won, but that may be because they were having their time of the month.


So concludes the rehearsal night…  Next post: wedding day.


Leave a comment


  1. Cassie Lachance

     /  November 1, 2011

    Oh….my ….god….that was so well written and I legit peed my pants…NICE WORK! hahahahaahahah!

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