Peter the Penis

** Warning: The following blog is not appropriate for young audiences. Or easily offended audiences. Or audiences with a maturity level over, say, age 14. Which basically leaves like two people who will enjoy this blog. And those are the two people who actually read this blog, so it all works out perfectly. **

So I mentioned previously that I have a lot of friends getting married lately. And as a result I’ve had a lot of bachalorette parties lately. A commenter on my previous blog noted that I had discussed bachalorette parties without discussing “Peter”. And how that happened, I just do not know. Because Peter is so blog-worthy.

So here is the tale of Peter.

Peter was (and still is) an inflatable penis. He was purchased at a sex shop and taken on a bachelorette party to Tahoe. And boy did he have some fun.

Peter, who was named because “Peter the Penis” sounded catchy, stands 5 feet tall, when fully, uh, blown up. He also has a pouch on the bottom that can be filled with water. After you fill him with about 6 bottles of water he becomes a punching bag and pops right back up every time he’s hit. He has stamina this Peter.

So we blow him up…

(The blowhole is on his side.)

…And we take him out to the club with us. Oh yes we did. And in order to get to the club we had to walk through the casinos. And in order to carry him one of us (me) had to hold his water end and another one of us had to carry his lighter, top end. The water end wasn’t exactly light, as it contained 6 bottles of water. So the easiest way to carry him was to hold him in front of me with two hands. I don’t have a picture of this, but I think you can do the visual yourselves. Every time I saw a kid as we walked through the casino I felt like I should contribute some money to the eventual therapy bills that would result from them seeing me with a five foot penis coming out of my crotch.

So we got to the club and Peter was an absolute HIT! He was the talk of the club, everyone loved him and he was even crowd surfing:

But then our good times came to an end. As the sober one of the group (How boring am I? Always sober. Thank god I hang out with lushes or I would never have any stories to tell.) I was in charge of doing a periodic headcount, to make sure no one had wandered off in a drunken stupor. Upon doing my count I realized that we were a woman down. I started scanning the crowd, trying to locate our misplaced soldier. As I was scanning a girl came up to me and said, “One of your girls is in the bathroom puking bad.” How did she know who my girls were?

Oh because we were all wearing these hats:

We are nothing if not classy.

So I grabbed my inflatable penis and went to check on the puking girl. I was a little confused why this girl was puking, as she’d only had about two drinks. I hadn’t pegged her as a lightweight.

When I get to the bathroom there are several security people surrounding Puking Girl’s stall. I push my way through and take a look at her. She is propped up in the corner of a stall, staring blankly at me. Those were not the eyes of a drunk person, they were they eyes of a drugged person. Take it from the sober driver – there’s a difference.

Mr. I’m A Badass Because I Work Bathroom Security decides to start threatening me and Puking Girl, because apparently he is intimidated by Peter and feels the need to flex a little, “Your friend is acutely intoxicated and we can have her arrested for being drunk in public. In fact we can have you arrested too.”

I look at him, “Dude, calm down.”

Dude says, “I think you should calm down. Your friend is acutely intoxicated and can be taken to the drunk tank until she sobers up. She is acutely intoxicated.”

I kid you not, I swear he learned the word “acutely” just that day.

I look at him again, “She is not acutely intoxicated. She had two drinks.”

“I don’t think that you are qualified to determine someone’s blood alcohol. We can have her arrested. She may have to go to the hospital.”

“Buddy she had two drinks, look at her eyes, someone obviously slipped something in one of her drinks. Now, I don’t know why you are talking to me like I’m an infant, but if you could get a wheelchair for her I’ll pull the car around and pick her up out front. Okay?”

He looks at her glazed over eyes, “Uh, okay.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you stop talking to me like I’m a fool.” I beamed with the confidence of someone who had just put someone in their place. That’ll teach him.

Then I straightened my rhinestone hat, grabbed by 5 foot penis and stormed out of the bathroom, wondering where on earth he got the idea that I was a moron.