I know it's cliché, but I do have the best friends ever

For my bachelorette party my friends came together to create the most joyous of Saturday nights. One made bundles of garland and goodie bags (etc.), while another set up a raunchy trip to a local pole dancing studio. After bribes of champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, and foam boobie cups, I made my way to the stripper pole- where I quickly slung my legs around it, grunted, "Uh-oh Gawwwwd!", and tumbled clumsily onto the hardwood floor. My prospects as a future pole dancer: not so bright. Stunt double in the next Jackass movie: call me.
My abs are still killing me from the deceiving workout and I can't bring myself to take the garlands down from my living room ceiling. I'm going to end this blog with a brief word association:

I-5 Rager
Man-sized teddy bear
Heckling fiance
Pole dancing: How to rack your groin with class
Phallic cutouts
Martha Stewart
Champagne hangover

The End.