Suck for a Buck T-shirts are Out

Instead of doing something fun -- and by fun I mean organized alcohol consumption, wink, wink -- I went to work at my old job making mailing lists. Why? Three words: I'm a sucker. That and tomorrow I'm driving down to LA for BF's sister's bachelorette party. Ta da!

We'll begin our evening at the Rainforest Cafe, Downtown Disney edition, and then shuffle our cute, perky selves off to a salsa club. A salsa club with a strict dress code on Saturday nights. No jeans, no sneakers, no hats, no shorts, no plaid shirts or risk expulsion!!! I understand everything except the plaid. Do Latin people hate plaid? I seek enlightenment.

This is my first bachelorette party. I've managed to shirk the others. BF's sister is a little ... she's a great gal and all, fun and responsible. We're just cut from different cloths. I'm afraid if I do the traditional bachelorette gags, it won't go over. So I wandered around the Random Crap store and picked up a pink fuzzy hat (a no-no for salsa), rose-tinted star-shaped glasses, lace cut-off gloves, a pimp dollar sign necklace, naughty tights, and sexy cookie cutters. Sexy. Cookie. Cutters.

Oh, and face glitter. For me. Shut up.

I hope the accessories go over. If not I come bearing earrings to soothe her wounded psyche.

In other, yet startingly similar news, I've completed the hours I agreed to complete in order to get certain tickets to certain shows this season. I'll be seeing/hearing John Leguizamo, Tony Kushner, Lily Tomlin, and David Sedaris. Happy is me.

Listening to Stereophonics "More Life in a Tramp's Vest." Bouncy is me.