Thursday, March 08, 2007

Not your average pillow fight

When I was in college I used to host slumber parties at my apartment for my girlfriends and female coworkers (yes, some of those same ones) a couple times a year. To us girls this meant that we were all going to gather at my apartment and do most of the following:

-Eat a lot of pizza/junk food
-Drink a lot of Natty Light
-Watch girly movies including but not limited to: The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Father of the Bride, Pretty Woman and anything else with Molly Ringwald
-Wear our comfiest jammies, slippers, ponytails, zit cream
-Do the Cosmo Makeover on my old 486 computer
-Destroy the car of the first girl who fell asleep OR that of a victim of our choosing (typically one of our bosses)
-Play random boardgames
-Talk shit about a lot of people
-Eat a lot of pizza/junk food
-Drink a lot of Natty Light

To guys who heard about the slumber party, this meant:

-We were all going to strip naked, cover ourselves in whip cream and have an enthusiastic pillow fight where feathers would break free from the pillows and attach themselves to our sticky bodies as we rolled around on my floor and touched each others boobies while kissing in that porno-ish pointy tongue way.

Seriously, I heard the exact same story from every single guy.

And it appears that this visual scenario is embedded into the minds of every adult male, because when I mentioned my Girls Weekend to Bubba, he got the same look of lustful anticipation on his face that I first came into contact with after announcing the slumber party invite in the college newsroom, oh so many years ago.

Not to burst any boy bubbles (ew), but grown-up Girls Weekends are about the same, with only a few un-salacious changes:

-We go out for a very nice French dinner or cook elaborate gourmet meals instead of ordering in pizza
-We drink good wine and champagne instead of cheap beer
-The Devil Wears Prada has made an official place for itself in the movie reel
-We talk shit about different people
-We don't destroy things so much as we leave them "the way they were when we got there"

Oh, and now we extend these fetes over a weekend instead of concentrating them into one night of lewdless fun.

Personally, I'm loving the evolution of low-brow apartment sleep-overs into fine dining mountain spa retreats. Sure, it takes more planning and an adequate salary, but the true elements of a quality girlish escape still hold true.

Unfortunately, for all the naughty-minded men out there, this is about as much erotic behavior as was going on at the Girls Weekend:

Good thing there was plenty of food, drinks and PG entertainment to satisfy us girls. You know, so that we don't get bored and accidently take our tops off for a raunchy throw down in the hot tub or anything.

In fact, with the basketball watching and rampant four letter words (ok, so that was mostly me with the potty mouth) it could have been a guy's weekend. Save for the breast pumping and gourmet cooking, that is.

So, as much fun as all us girls had during our fab weekend away, it will likely come as a deep disappointment that although we have grown up a little bit since college, the things we want to do as a group when left to our own devices, has a much less erotic twist to it than most men fantasize about. I can hear little man hearts breaking across the blogosphere right now.


Here's to a fabulously unporn-ish Girls Weekend - ladies you're all awesome and sexy (that was for the guys right there)


  1. Yay girls' weekend....and I had to laugh out loud when I saw the Cosmo Makeover software - I bought it, too and that was some great v1.0 shite. :) It actually made up my boyfriend-at-the-time up better than me!

  2. Looks like so much fun!! But really, must I reiterate the sheer enjoyment that can be found when maple syrup FREEZES on a car? (Sheer enjoyment for culprits, ie, US, not for car's owner, ie, dorky boss.) ;-) I don't think anyone would have appreciated those hijinks at 30 y.o. so you're better off with the fine wine and breast pumping...

  3. Such fun! I loved those college parties. And this one sounds a lot like the weekend you got married. FUN!

  4. Ms Adventures - See, I'm so glad someone else out there thought this software had merit. Did you so love the hair colors? So "natural" looking. Whoa. I see that there are new versions now which make me want to go out and get them so I can host another slumber parties.

    Shelley - The freezing maple syrup - yes, that was classic. I had no idea it was going to be so bad. We're all going to sticky hell for that one. Ew. Sorry Bri.

    AK - I loved them, too! And, isn't it funny that some of the key characters from those parties are still my closest friends. Serves us right - we all have to stay together to protect the innocent ;)

  5. ROFL Just came across your blog via your comments over at FarmGirl's...and considering I can't sleep tonite, your highly amusing/entertaining blog is NOT helping me wind down and want to try to get back to sleep!

    *I* want to come to one of those fantasized-about sleep overs now!! CAN I!? HUNH!? CAN I!?? I mean, hello - girls touching each others boobies? HAAAAWT!!!

    Thanks for the very entertaining blog - I'll be back for more of your gardening adventures, cooking excitement, and yes, even the sewing stories.


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.