Hangover Part 3 just happened

I will write the full details of last night in a post tomorrow, but I need to at least preview it.

First of all, the whole night was like a Pitbull, Give Me Everything, dance video.

We must have played that song 72 times. In fact, it was our theme song and every time it came on, we all dropped whatever we were doing and lostourshit like we hadn’t just heard it 23 minutes before. People must have also thought it was slightly bizarre that whenever someone asked us a question, at least one drunk girl would answer, Grab somebody sexy, tell them heeeeey. Because that makes sense. Anyway, there’s a 100% chance we’re all making our own Pitbull music video sometime this week and there’s a 75% chance we’re 1. being introduced at Katie’s wedding to that song and 2. performing a dance routine in front of the wedding to it. Considering all the dance moves we do to it are completely inappropriate, it should be a good bonding moment for us and people like my grandparents. (Cupcake excluded because she is awesome and would love it.)

So that was the theme music.

Then we had games and shots out of syringes (jello shots, of course), sex toys and matching shirts. We reviewed our extensive love for Rob Pattinson, which I will detail in tomorrow’s post, added tequila to the mix and dressed up for night out, promising to ruin as much of CT in a twelve-hour period. Which we did.

When you hang with nurses and vet techs, you do shots out of syringes. Which is wicked handy, I might add.

We enjoyed a little Margaritaville, created a scavenger hunt for Katie, who for the record was drunk before we even made it to the hotel in the first place. We interrupted card games, went unicorn hunting, met Pauly D, hung with the mafia, learned about the life of a high roller, danced our fucking pants off, drank some serious gin (me), played in the arcade, bet ten on red, bottle serviced it up and acted generally insane and full of estrogen.

Maine girlrs, heading to Casino. Picture taken by three cougars we found taking jager shots in the gas station parking lot, en route to the Def Leppard concert. I felt like I saw me in 20 years.

For a girl who despises girl’s nights, it was pretty bad-ass and memorable all around.

In our custom-made tees, which read, We Always Bet on White.

Tomorrow, I will go into a little more detail, like maybe why it’s not a good idea to have a rings off/tops off night, how hanging with the mafia always comes with a price, how it really is possible to dance your pants right off of you, and why Katie’s house needs to be disinfected and probably burned to the ground.

Oh, that last one? Damned guys added a lesbian show to their bachelor party. In my sister’s house. And the grossest part? Those bitches needed to mop the floor before they left. What kind of lesbian show involves so much nasty and the Bad Gross Things that you need to fucking MOPTHEFLOOR on your way out? Sluts. Hate ’em.