Do you want to be a polyester bride/ Or do you want to hang your head and die?

Spent this past weekend in Florida. Bridal shower and bachelorette party for my sister. The bachelorette party consisted of superior sushi and cocktails, then dancing and drinking "buckets o booze" (literally, it was several buckets of Sex on the Beach with many straws) at a dueling pianos bar that had about five other bachelorette parties. As my sister isn't a big drinker, I got pretty tips.

My sister kept pimping me out to men she deemed attractive. Whoever talked to her, bought her a drink, took a condom off her veil, etc . . . sister would say "But she's single!" and point to me.

One guy was clearly gay. He was way too pretty to be straight. Another guy simply held up his wedding-ring-clad hand.

"But I'm really horny!" he says.

Another guy was Jewish.

The highlight of my weekend was playing with my two-year-old nephew and his trains. Giggling merrily, he suddenly paused and looked at me gravely.

"Aunt Kath, I'm pooping."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"Should we change you?"

"My butt hurts. I need my buttpaste."