I’m not going to presume that anyone other than my fellow Buttercups has noticed my non-posting lately, but in case you have noticed I’ll essplain: See, I’m trying to plan my wedding while working 10 hour days, trying to get in shape so I don’t have “bingo arms” in my wedding dress, trying to spend time with my fiance, trying to keep house so I don’t have to live in a Winehouse-level crack sty, all while being leveled with setback after setback. Vendors not showing up for appointments, seriously apocalyptic outdoor temperatures, and a plague being passed around my office due to everyone’s kids going back to the germ-farms that the gov’t tries to pass off as “schools” have all conspired to keep me staggeringly unproductive. But, amid all the chaos there is a solitary ray of light:

My bachelorette weekend! Next weekend, my favorite girls are taking me on a most-expenses-paid (I’m guessing) trip….. Somewhere. Wherever I’m going, it’s somewhere I have to get to by plane. That’s all I know. Literally. BAngieB will drive me to the airport and put me on a plane, and the rest is history. I know the dates I’ll be gone, and can guess a few of the girls in attendance, but other than that- crickets. HOW AMAZING IS THAT? How mysterious! How thrilling! How dramatic! How.. Missing Persons video! (really, this song popped in my head the minute I was informed that I was going on a trip to a top-secret locale).

I’m so stoked, and honestly this trip could not come at a better time for me as my batteries are straight-up drained. Only a weekend of fun could get me through the long trudge till my wedding and honeymoon. But, I guess we could have some fun now gessing where I’ll be headed. Here are my (highly plausible) ideas:

I just want to take this time to let all of my gal pals know how wonderful they are and how “Iiiiiiyyyeee will always looooove yoooooooooousss”, even if you whisk me away to Wisconsin and make me eat my weight in cheese, even if you freeze all my underpants, even if you get me so wasted that I use a potted plant as a toilet, even if you do cliche’ bachelorette party shit like make me wear a veil out on a pub crawl and force me to drink out of a penis-shaped straw. You all rock so hard, that there are no words for how amazing you are. After all, what are words for? (Ooooooh, see? You’re so awesome that you deserve a SECOND Missing Persons video. That is the real deal.)

Tell tales of bachelorette shindigs past in the comments.