007

A week and a half ago (yes, I am lazy and waaayyyy behind) I ventured across the state, and even into the next one over, for a bachelorette/girls' weekend.

My cousin, referred to as The Tall One in previous posts, is getting married.

I'm one of her bridesmaids (My fourth time, for anyone who's counting--I'm thinking about going professional.  I can just imagine an ad for "bridesmaid for hire."  I'd make a killing, I'm sure.), so my sister and I, with some help from a few other key players put together a little weekend for her.

We had our moments of inappropriateness (drinking out of penis straws isn't considered appropriate?), a lot of relaxation, and a great deal of delicious food.

Rest assured that if I am planning an event of any kind, the food is a priority.  As it should be.

The weekend was fun, she got a few sexy pieces. and I got to play James Bond.  I'm not even exaggerating this time.

See, we got to the resort late.  Late enough, in fact, that the office was closed.  On the office door was a note telling me to pick up the phone on the wall, which would connect me to an answering service.

After picking up the phone I had to verify my identity (give them my name), and received a lock box number as well as a secret combination.  Inside the lockbox was a room number, parking pass, map, and key card all wrapped in a paper that contained "very important" information.

The packet did not, however, self-destruct after I opened it.  Luckily.  We made it safely to our condo.  And I felt oh, so stealth.

The end.