It’s well established through urban legend, porn plot #178, and office gossip that bachelorette parties are far wilder than you’re typical guys bachelor parties. By the time men get to bachelor parties, they’re just doing mostly the same shit they’ve done a dozen times before, only without a wet blanket future in law tag-along. Even the Hangover movie series couldn’t get past number one without running out of ideas. But when women start going shot for shot and the estrogen strands uncoil, millions of years of repressed gatherer urges come to the forefront and greased up male genitalia starts getting snapped back and forth like a tether ball. None of that shit seems to be happening yet on the yacht Vanessa Hudgens hooked up in Miami for Ashley Tisdale’s bachelorette party. The two have been good friends since High School Musical days when they bonded over the challenge of being only seventeen and already having promised to take Zac Efron’s secret to the grave. I’d like to be around when these hot midgets uncork the booze after sunset and start grousing about the double standards women must endure in society. I’ve seen porn plot #178. I do know what happens next. I can handle the subjugation.
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