a bachelorette partini

Apparently while I was out of office (OOO) yesterday my team met to discuss the weekly to-dos.  Why I wasn't in that day came into question - did it make sense to take an extra day off for a bachelorette weekend?  A supervisor commented that if everyone had seen the photos on Facebook they'd know it was for the best (whoops).  I - for one - haven't taken vacation in a while. I got up Monday am (bright and early) and caught up on four consecutive episodes of Mad Men.  I decided to go for a run and attempt to sweat off the excessive amounts of cheese I'd consumed (you'll see).  It never seizes to amaze me who roams the streets during the work week day - like, what do you do for a living and how come you're running at 2pm?  Were you in AC this weekend and needed the extra day too? I went for a run by the East River where I took in the local scenes of homeless bums, Upper East Side nannies with their bugaboos, and one peculiar man tweezing hair from his chin.  Love was in the air, the kind of love Justin Beiber sings about - 14-year-olds fiercely making out on the park bench and getting it all in before they have to head home for dinner.


If I'm going to be honest - they definitely didn't want me in the office yesterday.  The weekend was a blast, but I'm getting too old for all night  benders that result in me sending myself home because the twentieth person in heels (I left at midnight to don flats and then returned to the club to dance) stomped on my foot and brought me to tears.


Saturday - Let the Partini Begin
The theme - a bachelorette partini - taking the bride to her roots of the Jersey Shore.  GTL before the weekend (no seriously, it happened) and then prepare for when eighteen girls, a majority sorority sisters, make their way to the Borgata for the night.

We reserved a number of rooms plus the bachelorette suite (bless the cleaning lady who tried to steal my iPod, she probably deserved it).  While the groom's sister was off "babysitting" the bride, the rest of us got to work decorating, picking up the dinner, smuggling alcohol and cookie cakes into the room and trying to figure out how the penis confetti made its way into the dip ["That's what she said"].


Guests arrived relatively on time and the party started in the room (we turned the sinks into coolers, the bathtub into a balloon heaven and garbage pails into wine buckets). Since the bride was from out of town and couldn't take all the gifts back, we instructed guests to have the present sent to the couple and to bring a print out and bow to make the fun bouquet for rehearsal dinner.  This cut down on time spent opening presents [score]. This request also resulted in a party foul when a guest that couldn't make it ruined the aw factor via gift card saying "Have Fun in AC."


... fast forward a few hours of sweatbox dancing (the kind I promised the girl at the dress store I wouldn't do) ... and the evening culminated in a cheese eating binge fest in the after hours suite.  Some friends had broken into the suite with hot-pressed cheese sandwiches in tow.  While pocketing the various slabs of cheese from an appetizer platter and patting themselves on the back for being so secretive, they hazily left the room - and their hot sandwiches behind.


Imagine my surprise when I returned to the room crying and limping from a fatal foot injury to find a pepperoni and cheese sandwich waiting for me - still warm.  I was with Sarah, a doctor, who assured me that the sandwich was put there by an angel to help my foot feel better.  And it did.  I didn't feel so much better the next morning when my conscience kicked in  ... so it was probably better to have taken the next day off ... 


-HMOH