Party like a rock star

This weekend, I had the distinct pleasure of accompanying my soon to be sister-in-law to a local dance club for a bachelorette extravaganza. Can I just say, Oh. Good. God.

I haven't been on the club scene in years, and now I remember why. I hate it. I hate weird little straight guys who can't dance. I hate being grabbed at as I walk by the bar or across the dance floor. And then, if you dare to dance with your girls, some idiot sneaks up behind you and starts grinding (out of sync to the music none-the-less) on your ass. After about three hours, I pretty much had my fill and stopped using the polite, "Sorry, I'm married." The next guy who grabbed me got whipped in the face with my hair when my head swiveled around, a'la Exorcist as I hissed, "Don't fucking grab me!" He didn't stick around.

At one point, my current sister-in-law and I were standing around the dance floor, just watching in horror at the display when she leaned over to me and said, "Do you remember that scene in 'Shallow Hal' when he's dancing with all the fat, ugly chicks but he thinks they are hot? I think we're looking at that exact situation here."

In the space of a few hours, I saw a chick who was extremely high dance for a full song with one tit hanging out. I saw a 40+ woman dry hump a pole. There was the older couple who thought that swing dancing was appropriate during "Party Like a Rockstar." And the endless parade of girls displaying the latest trend in muffin tops.

Despite the circumstances, my future SIL had a great time, we danced the night away and at one point, I snuck into the restroom with her camera and took some very candid shots of my breasts. Either she hasn't looked at her camera yet, or she thinks they are her tits because she still hasn't called me to ask about it.