Divas

Last night I went to a bachelorette party for K. K's good friends with my sister-in-law, LL; her fiance is one of R's best friends. They met at our wedding two years ago in the Poconos and are marrying in two weeks at an inn about an hour north of NYC.

Last night's party started at Madame X on Houston where, thanks to the Diva School, we learned the fine art of striptease. Adorned with pink feather boas we twisted and gyrated our way into moves like the hip swivel, the titty shake, and the handcuff. At the end we were all to do our own little dance--improv encouraged--for K and drape our boas around her. Two of K's cousins went, then my sister-in-law LL who collapsed onto K and the two sat side by side. Then it was my turn. I'll admit I got a little into it--I've got a belly dancing/gypsy fantasy rattling around somewhere in my brain--and shimmied and gyrated my way toward K and LL., at which point K says really loudly: "And can you believe she's doing your brother?"