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Okay, so the bachelorette party.

The maid of honor is great- we started calling her a Perverted Martha Stewart. So organized. She bought pasta shaped like male body parts (we started calling them "penii") and painted them rainbow colors so we could string bracelets of them. She planned games involving bananas and such, even had prizes.

She made this drink she called a "Hawaiian Breeze." Bacardi mixer, sprite, rum, and everclear. You're fine until you stand up to get seconds.

For the first game, we had to put a condom on an unpeeled banana. I was so embarrassed. First girl to finish it won the prize.

I won a can of whipped body cream.

Second contest was worse. We peeled the bananas, and had to see how far... oh God. I think you know. When you couldn't make it go any further you were supposed to make a mark with your teeth so it could be measured against the others.

I won fuzzy handcuffs. Oh my Lord.

Of course, the idea was to keep everything secret. But one of the bridesmaids thought it would be funny to tell her husband, who just happened to be the best man. My older brother shot me a very knowing look when he saw me at the rehearsal, saying, "I heard you girls had a good time last night."

At the party after the wedding, when Matt and Becca were safely ensconced in their honeymoon suite and dreaming of morning flights to Acupulco, people were discussing the bachelorette party, and my ever-tactful cousin Drew (another groomsman) announced loudly, "So Katie won a deep-throat contest?"

::dies in a puddle of mortification::

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