Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Getting together with my gal pals always starts off with classy intentions.

Sometimes, we start at a local Nashville winery where the owner is out and about rubbing elbows with visitors. And being that this winery dude used to be in one of country music’s biggest duos, Brooks and Dunn we have no shame in asking for a photo, naturally.

Does anyone else hear Neon Moon?

Patiently waiting for a neon moon with Kix Brooks while guzzling wine.

Typically on a ladies night, we begin with good intentions all dolled up with our lipstick still in tact.

Good intentions

Pretty in pink with lipstick, of course.

Then after about a cocktail and a half, photo shoots commence while our love for one another gushes throughout conversations.

Fun fun

I love you. No I love you! But I loooove you, Girl.

Once love is professed, it’s time for shots.

And then...

Cheers to classy times.

And then hell starts to break loose…like taking pictures of our party in the back of a mini van.


Yep, that’s how we roll.

We feel free to ditch the shoes and any ounce of dignity as our killer heels hurt our feet.

Shoes off!

Who needs shoes when you have booze?!

Our magical powers of prowess surface as we will our significant others to call us.

Pleeeeeeeeease call!

Pleeeeeeeeease call!

We find other uses for feminine products while on cocktail number five.

Tampon Time

No Botox needed when you have a maxi pad.

The fun on girls night out never stops – not even for pangs of hunger.


Won’t stop. Can’t stop.

Us trashtacular gals know when it’s time to stuff our faces like truck drivers in order to keep the party going.

Like this...

Eating cheeseburgers is hilarious business.

Once our bellies are full, we charge on divulging deep, dark secrets.


Trust me, your secret is not safe with me.

Photo ops get a little trying as we start to lean like the Tower of Pisa.

Pic train

Wait, you leaning left or right?

Once we start feeling fat from cramming food in our bellies, yoga moves seem like a good idea.

Work it.

A plank pose. Who’s with me?

And then we get to feeling crafty. Who doesn’t want a marker creation on their forehead?

Get crafty.

Trust me. This is the best smiley face ever.

No gals evening is ever complete without the appearance of jazz hands.

Jazz hands, anyone?

Treating ten digits like extra accessories.

An evening with my sophisticated crowd wouldn’t be the same without helping a lady to a chair.

Hey-oh! It's not a GNO until someone is groped.

Hey-oh! It’s not a GNO until someone is groped.

But all good things must come to an end.

NOOOOOOOOO I never want the party to end!

NOOOOOOOOO I never want the party to stop!

Some of the bigger bawl babies have to be coddled – soothed into knowing there will be another night to galavant around with the girls.

Tell me I'm going to be OK...

Tell me I’m going to be OK…

Coming home in the morning light isn’t as glamorous as Cyndi Lauper makes it out to be but at least my mother isn’t yelling at me to get my life right.

To this. Sushi can suck it.

Dreams of next GNO dancing in my head.

While it may take us a little time to get back into our daily saddles again, we always have fun in the back of our minds as we work the week away.

Is it? Well, is it?!

Is it? Well, is it?!

Who’s in for the next night out?



How to Make an Ass of Yourself on a Party Bus

For me, making an ass out of myself is so easy.

I just threw my back out

The look of throwing one’s back out.

It all starts with the rental of a party bus – complete with motion lights, dance music, an extremely patient designated driver and a gaggle of loud ladies.

Big wheels keep on turnin'

Big wheels keep on turnin’.

Add in a few bottles of booze to pass the time while cruisin’ around town.

Such a good idea

Feels so good when it hits the lips.

And boom. Immediate dance party on the bus.

Automatic dance party.

No tips please.

As the bus stops at your selected designation, walk on the carpet to the entrance of the bar like E! News is there covering your every move.

Rolled out the red carpet for me. And the 572 other folks at the bar Friday night.

Red carpet for me….and the 572 other folks at the joint.

As you drive around town, be sure to keep your head out the window (yes, just like dogs do) as you drive at 8 mph. The wind will ever-so-slightly be blowing through your hair (and you’ll feel like a vixen from some music video), so as you look like you’ve never met a brush in your life.

When a bouncer of a bar runs up to your window (because you’re driving at such dynamic speeds) and offers your entire bus free shots, try to keep it together.

Nothing a little Jager can't cure

We’ll break your bank. Seriously.

After doing shots for the girls that were too classy to participate (how can you say no? It’s FREE!) show everyone the evidence of your tonsillectomy from when you were 6-years-old.

I just wanted everyone to know that I had my tonsils removed.

Nope. No tonsils in sight.

You know it’s time to party down when the jazz hands come out to play.

Jazz hands!

No girls night out (or asshole) is complete without a set of these babies.

Upon exhibiting your mad dancing skills, it’s important you keep hydrated.

Down the...

Down the…

So you’re able to keep the bus moving off of your energy alone.

No tips please.

The night’s 3,291st rendition of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

By this point, you’ll know it’s time to bust a major move.

Getting down with my ducky self.

Getting down with my ducky self.

Then when someone suggests a move after you keep bragging about knowing how to do hot yoga…

You want me to what?

You want me to what?

…you accept the challenge and pull all kinds muscles you never knew existed within your body.

I got this.

Leaning tower of CBXB.

And when you’re done showing how big of an ass you can be, head to the nearest masseuse.

Trust me.