And I'll keep it PG-13 for our younger audience.

I attended the bachelorette party of one of my own bridesmaid's this weekend, and in a word, it was out-of-control. OK, so that's really, like, three words, but whatever. It's my blog.

I am here to recap the night. Or at least tell you what I can assure is absolute fact, and not just a drunken mirage.

The evening began with a fine Italian dinner. Here, two bottles of wine were consumed amongst 10 women, including, but not limited to, two (and-a-half) mothers, and one grandma. The food was delicious, the wine was more delicious, and the inappropriate conversations were not kept to a minimum.

Seeing as though all of us were one of the following: married, engaged, or a grandma, we regaled stories of weddings past and engagement moments. Flashed wedding rings across the table. Said the word "vagina" once or twice. The Bachelorette opened gifts. We said "ooh" and "aah" at the appropriate moments. And then we headed to our next destination: A Passions Party.

Oh boy.

I will keep this as PG-13 as possible, given the nature of the party, however, I will say that I have physical evidence of an 80-something-year-old woman holding a vibrator to her nose. And The Bachelorette holding a cucumber in her cleavage. And martinis flowing. And the word "ejaculate" making everyone giggle. And I saw objects that I'm not sure are anatomically correct.

I also may or may not have spent a few of the dollars reserved for the remainder of the security deposit for Our Apartment. The Fiance forgives me. I'm done with that story.

On to the bars! Here more alcohol was consumed. Bottles of champagne. More bottles of champagne. Some dancing. More drinking. More dancing. The Fiance, who appeared as the sole male of the night, experienced what will be close to the only threesome he will EVER, ever encounter, as I allowed him to dance with both myself and another party-goer. And also touch The Bachelorette's boob. Three times.

She doesn't remember. He does.

By the end of the night, once we were all highly intoxicated, sweaty and doused with pheromones leftover from the Passions Party, we parted ways. And I somehow woke up with an intense hangover and bruises.

Huh.