Well, 700 miles and back from Charlotte for Cheyenne's last hoorah as a single gal. The weekend also comprised Cheyenne's bridal luncheon, which was very classy and very unlike Saturday evening.
Because unclassy pictures are more fun, I have decided to post the pics from the bachelorette party (yes, One Way, I took my million dollar camera out to the bars and dancing ...). Can you find all the penises on this post?
To kick off the evening, we decorated and had champagne.
Before opening presents, Ms. Francie held story time for all the gals. She regaled us with tales of her youth (though curiously withheld her old nickname of "Miss Cheese").
Then, on to presents. Here, Cheyenne examines a present closely and determines it must be a shirt ...
No? Not a shirt ... hmmmm ... well, I'm sure she'll get some good use out of it anyway.
What's this?
Incredulously, Cheyenne tries to be coy around her mother.
Now that we are sufficiently red-in-the-face from champagne and penis-talk, we get ready to leave the house (look, I'm actually in a picture on the blog!!!)
After a harrowing cab ride (our cabbie had just finished playing Grand Theft Auto, hijacked this van from a poor old lady -- her license picture still donned to windows -- and nearly ran over all the "extras" on the sidewalks ... sweet ...), we arrived at Zink's in downtown Charlotte. Delicious. Plus, they gave us crayons and let us draw on the paper. What did we draw? Well, at least one of us drew a penis. The rest did classy things like "Cheyenne and Marson = love." We all know who drew the penis but she's not in THIS photo...
After dinner, we gave Cheyenne her mission list for the night. She had a lot of tasks to complete. In this photo, it is the end of the night after every single one was completed (OK, most).
We then went every where our fearless Bachelorette wanted to go.
... And took a lot of shots.
... And then, of course, we danced. Here Chey fulfills two of her list obligation: dancing with a bald guy and dancing on a table (which is actually a stage, but we counted it):
And, here, the gals get on the balcony and shake their stuff!
We ran into Moraccan man/Flav-A-Flav/who the hell was that guy?
Some of us kept on wanting to live out our single-hood ... Cheyenne?
That's all for now folks. How many penis did you see?
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