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I swear there is nothing more in life that I need or want than a weekend in the Carolina’s. Sigh. Seriously. I’ve been back in dreary, rainy New York City for less than 24 hours, and all I can do is lust over my latest copy of Kiawah Legends Magazine, with another Firefly cocktail. There’s just something about those beautiful beaches, the salty air, cocktails with friends and live music floating over the canopies of spanish moss.

Can you think of anything better?

I really do think that this is the way to bachelorette your way into married life girls.  This weekend was the story of seven girlfriends who have known each other for a very long time… since first grade. (You can do your own math).

We stayed in Folly Beach in a beautiful townhouse with super fun red walls and a screened in porch overlooking miles of marsh and quick stretches of creek that only the loggerheads could fit through.  Folly is about 25 minutes from downtown Charleston, and a great little town for a weekend away.

Apparently it’s quite the place for a bachelor and bachelorette getaway. I feel like I say this a lot when I go on these, but man… I should have known the weekend was going to be ridiculous when I got on the plane at La Guardia. Let me paint you a little picture…

We board… barely, because my cousin and I were way to consumed in our own conversation to be paying attention to something so unimportant as a boarding time. Plus, we were mildly distracted by a gaggle of drunken 30-something men staggering toward our gate. “That can’t be our plane,” I said.


That was most certainly our plane.

That gaggle of drunken men turned out to be a bachelor party of 16 heading straight to the shores of Charleston, and they had been drinking since 9am. Before we even took off they had clogged the bathroom. Before, we even took off. The stewardess gave the plane the option of going back to the airport to fix said lavatory, or she wouldn’t serve us any water and we could be on our merry way.

“NO WATER!”  we all yelled in unison.



Bring us booze instead.

By the time we landed in Charleston, two cocktails, three games of “Guess that Celebrity”, and one hour later, the plane was dry. Those boys drank that plane clean.

Hey, good for them… and us. The stewardess felt so bad that we were sitting in the middle of Animal House on the Party Plane that she threw us some freebies too. Thank. You.

The rest of the weekend was filled with early morning runs, a day at the beach that I spent standing in the ocean with a Firefly cocktail in hand, (because that’s my perfect happiness in life) delicious dinner at High Cotton in Charleston, and INCREDIBLE. Incredible drinks at the rooftop bar at the Market Pavilion Hotel, quite possibly my most favorite spot in Chucktown. I highly recommend the Dirty Bird. Highly, highly. Nothing quite tops a dirty martini with Roquefort stuffed olives at sunset, overlooking all of Charleston with old friends. Nothing.

It’s worth doing, and it’s worth doing right. If you go to Folly Beach, hit up Lazo’s for early morning Coffee, Snapper Jack’s for live music late night, and Rita’s Seaside Grille for barbecue shrimp quesadilla’s or Taco Boy for some of the best fish tacos in the south. The best thing about Folly, is you can walk EVERYWHERE. There’s a great bar scene, and great little restaurants. Do it up girls. Be different. Buck the trends, and go on vacation instead. Just watch that day drinkin’… it’ll catch up with you 😉


Five very drunk brides-to-be with their posses of scantily clad bridesmaids in tow threw down in a Battle of the Bachelorettes this weekend in Newport, RI. Ridiculous getup’s ranged from a Red-Sox hat/veil and feather boas to plastic peenie weenie straws and drink stirrers.  Even a giant blow up penis went parading down Thames Street, getting horrified looks from both the yuppie Newport locals, and the bachlorette’s partying sans plastic peen for the night.

Newport, RI. Home to the tawdriest bachelorette parties this side of Boston. Who knew?  I actually couldn’t believe the number of women out celebrating their last night of “freedom” in this tiny seaside resort. Having been to Newport once about six years ago, I anticipated your typical preppy seaside resort town complete with boys in boat shoes, popped collars and everything pretty in pink and green.  Not so, at least not so at night…

No, Newport is filled with cover bands that play Sweet Home Alabama and Don’t Stop Believin’ on repeat, men dressed as Captain Morgan, and yes… a couple of New England yuppies who got lost on their way to the Hamptons.

But, it is one of the most fun places I’ve ever been to. It’s really beautiful, and if you can make time to do anything outside the bar for the weekend, do it. The Salve Regina cliff walk is really beautiful and walking distance from downtown Newport. There are sails around the island, and fancy shmancy places you can pretend you belong at like the roof bar at the Hotel Viking, the dining room at the Mooring House, where Giada DeLaurentis went on her RI weekend getaway and Castlehill resort, which offers cocktails on the lawn every afternoon at sunset.

But, for those of you just looking to party out in the traditional Bachlorette style in Newport, read some helpful tips to remember for a successful weekend away.

1. Take rides from Strangers: Otherwise you might not get home. There are a total of eight cabs in Newport, RI, and when the bars say last call, those streets fill up like State Street on a Saturday night when SUNY’s in session.  It’s pretty easy for nine girls to flag down a pick-up truck (or a Civic) for a free ride home if you just ask nicely.

WARNING:  Be careful. Don’t try this at home. Especially with less than 5 people, 2 of which aren’t at least something close to what you would refer to as sober. Also, beware of PVC piping in the truck bed.

All in all – pretty bad idea. But it beats walking up hills in heals.

2.  Make use of what you’ve got: There is no “adult entertainment” in Newport, unless you count watching the drunks stumble home. However, there’s nothing wrong with “asking around” to “see” if anyone in your general vicinity… including but not limited to hot, young bell boys, “happen to know anyone” who “may or may not be willing to provide some entertainment when they get off work.” Just don’t make the poor little things panic and break into a nervous sweat. Watch your wording too.  Pretty sure that other kind of favor could land you in jail.

3. Flasks are mandatory: Bringing these little babies with you to the bar will significantly decrease your bar bill. That or, raid the mini bar for nips before you leave the hotel and stuff them in your purse.  Drinks are yet another of Newport’s overpriced commodities.  Plus, some Newport bartenders are a little bit on the slow side, and you might be better off going to the bathroom to spike the punch than wait behind six girls ordering a round of red headed sluts.

4. Watch out for the little ones… they bite: If you find yourself in the company of a brood of highly intoxicated and fairly unattractive men, who a) can’t stop sweating b) can’t stand up straight, and c) continue to fall into you to the tune of the Dropkick Murphy’s, take a few steps back, and wait for the smallest of your friends to tell the guy off. He’ll be so confused that the littlest one is screaming, he won’t know what to do except apologize, kiss you on the cheek and be on his merry way.

5. Watch the bride… or you just might lose her:
When the night is over it’s pretty easy to lose track of people. Try very hard not to lose track of the blinking bachelorette in her pink feather boa. They tend to wander away, shoeless attempting to get into vans filled with people they think they know. Taking her phone away might not be a bad idea either…in general this is a good idea for any and all serial drunk dialers in the group, but particularly helpful if her fiancé happens to be at his bachelor party at the same time. But if you want a good laugh… let her keep it and watch her attempt to lie her ass off about the hypothetical nonsense that ensued through the night to the best man. Now, that is priceless.

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