Archive for March, 2010
The bachelor party is normally a pretty simple affair (no pun intended). Guys eat, drink and, as is often the case, look at naked women either on film or in person at a strip club. Some go farther and others are much more staid, but the concept is fairly straight forward whatever your choice of debauchery.
With bachelorette parties, on the other hand, there can be a myriad number of possibilities that range from the innocent (tea and polite jokes about “your wedding night”) to the downright bawdy (strange mostly gay men flinging their junk in the faces of ladies loaded up on peppermint Schnapps and a sense of righteous indignation).
Whatever the case may be, accessories are not just important, they are apparently necessary and, even more importantly, nearly always in the shape of a penis, with one sparkly exception: the tiara.
About a month ago, my lovely girlfriend and I went to a local purveyor of party items to look for things she could bring to her best friend’s bachelorette party. Being the maid of honor and the best friend, it was left to her to send out the invites, organize the plans, buy lingerie as part of the “lingerie shower” they would have (no, dudes, it is NOT what you think!), order the penis pinata (natch) and, of course, get the tiara pictured above.
First, let me say there are a shocking number of penis shaped objects at Arne’s. Straws, cake tins, balloons…it’s a little creepy. None of it was quite as humorous to me as the “Sparkle Tiara,” which you can tell is sparkly by all the sad little snowflakes floating around on the packaging. I’d like to list for you the reasons I found this amusing and you WILL read it because you are totally bored if you’ve read this far already.
LAST NIGHT OUT!
This is mentioned twice on the package and both times with an exclamation point. I am left to assume that either the bride becomes a werewolf and is, wisely, not allowed outside at night, turns into a reverse vampire destroyed by moonlight or is simply locked in the basement. Is this some new marriage law?
Um, no offense, but could George’s Fun Factory (that is actually the name of the manufacturer if you look closely) come up with someone LESS homely to grace their tiara package. This poor woman looks like she was given a day pass from Amish country and got suckered by some city slicker to “try on a tiara” in a dark faux wood paneled room. I can hear them now:
City Slicker: Just try it on, just for a second.
Girl: I dunno, kind sir. I’m just an innocent youngster from farm country.
City Slicker: I promise you I won’t hurt you and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
Girl: Well, since I’ve already taken off my clothes, I guess it’s ok.
I can only “assume” that someone at the “factory” got a “memo” from someone in “legal” that suggested putting on said tiara didn’t automatically “transform” the “bachelorette” into a “fairytale princess” or that this may not actually be her “last night out.” Good job, “legal guy” and I use quotes because I don’t want to use incorrect “nomenclature.”
Tiara Spells Out Bachelorette
It’s important to tell you this on the packaging as it is nearly impossible to see the actual tiara through the clear plastic wrap.
Improper Staple Placement
After all this poor Amish girl went though in her first and only modeling job, you’d think they could move the staple down to her neck or chin and not cover her mouth. Or maybe it’s some sort of agreement they reached with her. She doesn’t press charges and they cover her filthy little whore mouth with a dirty staple just like she likes it…uh, what?
Bottom line: if you are having a bachelorette party or throwing one for someone, it isn’t complete without the sparkly tiara…and the penis pinata. If there is anything else that every bachelorette party needs, I don’t want to know. We guys will just continue to assume it’s a lot like the way slumber parties go…in porn films.
While I was out at lunch today (I had a lovely chicken sandwich if you must know), I tuned into the Jim Rome Show. I’m not a huge fan and I’m not remotely close to being a “clone” as he refers to his adoring listeners, but it’s generally entertaining and has a sports slant – worth a listen while driving around.
Rome decided to only let women callers through today and the hate mail and texts started pouring in. One guy said, “If I wanted to hear a woman squawk, he’s go home and listen to the wife.” Another chimed in about how Rome’s show was a safe haven away from his girl.
It should be noted that many of the callers on the Rome show are not all that interesting. The spend most of their time trying to hurl insults at fellow “clones” so that a select few will get invited to the annual “Smack Off.” Pretty stupid as a general rule, but occasionally entertaining.
For their part, the female callers were good. They talked a little sports. They took a few shots at male callers. Mostly, they were polite and competent – more than can be said for the average Rome caller. Rome’s personal take was in keeping with his personality. He admitted he loved spending time with his wife and even missed her when they were apart, consistent with what he has said about her on the show in the past.
All this got me to wondering: if women are so awful, why bother marrying them? Look, I totally understand wanting to have sex with women assuming you can roll your fat ass out of the lazy boy and wipe the chicken wing sauce off your face long enough to even attempt to pleasure one in the first place. But, if you really dislike being around them that much, why in God’s name would you marry one? What exactly is the point?
Maybe it’s social convention. Maybe it’s the fact that landing a woman might be the only shot you have at regular sex. Maybe you’re just a glutton for what you consider punishment.
Worst of all, maybe you want a kid. Seriously, if you hate the opposite gender enough to denigrate the one you chose to spend your miserable life with on a syndicated radio show – albeit anonymously – you do NOT need to breed. The last thing we need are little assholes running around with your disdain for the fairer sex.
Fortunately, I find this breed of “gentleman” rare, at least in my world. I, personally, happen to like hanging out with women. I count several among my dearest friends and consider them equally as close as my guy friends. My girlfriend is one of the most wonderful and fun people I’ve had the pleasure to meet. Like Rome, I really do enjoy her company and take every opportunity to avail myself of it.
Frankly, if I didn’t like a person, male or female, I just wouldn’t hang out with him/her. That doesn’t seem so difficult to me, but I guess the “clones” are too busy hosing down the decks with testosterone in an effort to impress other guys to think about it. Frankly, it sounds a little gay to me. Just sayin’.