So as was foretold last week, it was my privilege to babysit a bachelor weekend full of absinthe, booze, pocket-Klonopin, drunken sprints, and a hotel suite which contained 53 bears or representations thereof.
I survived, and did not drink at all.
People tried to tempt me a couple times, but I wasn't having any of it. Also, drunk people smell REALLY BAD. I never noticed this before.
In any event, bachelor party things happened. Rage-filled dance-offs were had, and we were periodically diverted so that an unnamed party could "look at some titties". Sadly (?), such an opportunity never presented itself,* although there was some talk of calling the Emergency Stripper Hotline, which is apparently a thing.
* I mean there were people of both genders who had clothes on, so I guess his wish could be fulfilled in letter, if not in spirit.
I had a depressive episode but twitched through it by sitting on a park bench and smoking ALL THE CIGARETTES.
Nothing else to write home about. I'm glad I posted previously, since writing about it helped me through it and strengthened my resolve. Thanks guise.
ETA: I forgot the highlight of the trip. BEHOLD MY ART:
Medium: Charred stick from old campfire on stone
Location: Top of a mountain
(don't judge me)