Weddingbee Blog

This is how I grew up.

I was about two when that picture of my brothers and cousins was taken. Sprinkle in a neighborhood with a severe lack children without a y chromosome, and you’ve got me. I didn’t stand a chance, and neither did most of my boyfriends. My tomboy act was never convincing. I’ve always been a girly girl at heart, but I’m a guy’s girl.

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some good gossip, but the girl fights and the girl drama just never appealed to me. I was a push-up-contesting, mud-slinging, tree-climbing, dirt-bike-riding, minnow-catching little girl from the beginning.

That’s my vuvuzela, and I’m tooting it harder than Spain fans.

You’ve met my three boyfriends, Zeb, Nick, and Adam. (I refer to Nick and Adam as “Number Twos.”) We’ve had some great times together and tons of memories to keep us laughing for years to come. My three boyfriends have been inseparable since the first day of kindergarten, and they are great people. As my high school friendships began to evolve and dissolve, I found myself hanging out with the guys. There was one particular night that I had used the term “Zeb’s friends” and Adam said to me, ”I think it’s pretty safe to assume that we are your friends now, too.” ( I reminded Number Twos of this recently, in case they forgot. This is pertinent to the story.)

Needless to say, they’ve never really had guys’ nights that did not include me. I hope it’s because I’m not a pain-in-the-ass girlfriend that Zeb needs to escape from every now and again. I’m also going to assume it is because I’m easy going rather than just a part of our package deal. Maybe, just maybe, they enjoy my company. I hear I’m pretty good at one-liners with my verbal diarrhea and truck-driver’s mouth.

Number Twos are Zeb’s best men—-our best men, really—and they are planning a bachelor party without a part of the wolf pack. Three quarters of the wolf pack does not a wolf pack make! It is a wolf fraction, jackholes!

Wolf Pack

No No NO—I do NOT want to accompany them on Zeb’s bachelor party. That would be silly. Rather, I’m having a sad time knowing that I am going to miss a no doubt epic evening with my friends.

They’ve been joking recently about taking Zeb to Vegas, but dammit I WANT TO GO! So I’ve politely told Number Twos that I’m bringing down the L.A.W.

Ladies

Against

Wolfpack

That’s right. I will use brute force on nether regions if they think they are leaving me out of a trip to Vegas. You hear me?! NETHER REGIONS! BRUTE FORCE! POINTY HEELS!!!

However will they enjoy the weekend without my many descriptive words for private parts? Who is going to suggest a power hour at the most opportune moment? They can’t order THREE Jaager bombs—everyone knows three is not a good number…four—or better yet, eight—is a much better number when ordering shots. It’s. Just. Not. Right.

I think I’m losing my case—and maybe my mind. Damn fractional wolf pack. You said we were friends!

Stupid. Fractional. Wolf Pack.

Who wants to join the L.A.W. with me? Better yet, who wants to go to Vegas for a WEEK. Suck that, Boyfriends!