debauchelorette party

Well, I guess I'm off the see the wizard.  Wish me luck!

*By wizard, I mean a shit ton of booze, seventeen crazed, party-faced femme fatales, and a yet-to-be-determined number of people who get paid to take their clothes off.  And instead of Oz, it's Denver - a city I get lost just approaching, let alone navigating [let alone drunk].  And instead of Toto, it's a wastey-faced bride-to-be in six inch glitter heels, not in a picnic basket but slumped over the shoulders of three equally incapacitated BFFs.  (Or would the bride be the Scarecrow?)  And instead of a witch, it's a pissed-off lady pimp in some greasy back alley, smacking us around cause we don't have the money we owe her.  Wait, what?  Damnit, I always mess up the Wizard of Oz analogies...

The point is, shit's about to get "cray," as the kids say.  And if you're just tuning in, I'm a mom.  I haven't done cray since halter mid drifts were involved.  Okay, okay - it was a few months ago.  But it didn't turn out well, remember?  I'm too old for this shit.  But once again, off I go...

I guess it ain't easy being fabulous.  Bitches.