How To Plan A NYC Bridal Shower
What To Do
In some cases, this is the most important aspect of a shower. There are approximately one billion inane bridal shower games to be found online. The fact is, whether it’s your fellow bridesmaid or Aunt Marsha, nobody is going to willingly pick up tacks using a raw hot dog tied to a string dangling between your legs. Similarly, nobody is going to sing, perform a skit, fold a fitted sheet, kiss a poster, or do a dance of any nature. they will, however, do some other less stupid stuff. so here are a few games that are on the right side of that line (however closely they toe it).
Toilet paper bride: Break into teams of four or so and ask each to designate a bride. Have the bride-to-be serve as the judge. Give each group a roll of toilet paper and five minutes and see who constructs the best gown. this game is best played early on—it’s a great way to get the ladies involved and interacting. Even the haters wind up enjoying it.
Newlywed game: A good one pre- or post-lunch, as it keeps your guests seated. Get the groom to answer 15-20 questions in advance. then put the bride in the middle of the room and see how many of his answers she can guess correctly. if your bride isn’t shy, stick a piece of gum in her mouth for every answer she gets wrong, then watch her drool and turn red as she attempts to remember her future hubby’s job title.
Present bingo: each square on the bingo card is a different item the bride may receive as a shower gift. this keeps everyone occupied and interested during the lengthy process of watching the presents being unwrapped. you can create and print custom boards here.
Purse game: A good one to have in your back pocket in case you need to fill time, since it requires very little prep. come up with points values for different items that may be found in a woman’s purse. Print up the guidelines and pass them out, and let everyone go rummaging around to see whose bag’s contents add up to the highest number. you can call out the items and play as a group or let the guests dig on their own during an allotted time. The lady with the brass knuckles always wins.
Don’t say _____: this is ideal because it doesn’t take up any extra time. as guests arrive, hand each one a bracelet or a clothespin (bracelets are more fun). Pick a word relating to the wedding or the bride (such as “wedding” or “bride”) and announce that it is verboten to utter it. anyone who disobeys and is caught must surrender her bracelet or clothespin (don’t do the clothespin) to the person who catches her. whoever has the most bracelets at the end of the shower wins and is also generally but lovingly acknowledged to be the most annoying person in the room.
Guestbook: ask people to share a memory, a piece of advice, a doodle, anything that comes to mind when they think of the bride leading up to her wedding. Encourage people to contribute throughout the afternoon, otherwise they’ll likely forget.
All that said, we do not advise doing all of these in one shower unless the bride has specifically requested games up the wazoo. Leave time for socializing, eating and drinking, or you’re going to wind up with some grouchy party guests.
Prizes are optional, unless you’re willing to spend enough for, say, a bottle of wine or a quality bath product. Little dollar store tchotchkes are fine, and people do like to be rewarded, but they also won’t cry if they don’t go home with another piece of clutter. Favors, on the contrary, should not be overlooked. think personal. did you know that you could put your friend’s face on an M&M? you can, and we recommend it. plus: hot chocolate mix and marshmallows if it’s a winter wedding, heart-shaped measuring spoons if the bride likes to cook, luggage tags for a destination wedding, the bride’s favorite cookie (Italian marzipan rainbow?), etcetera, etcetera.
How To Plan A NYC Bridal Shower
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Categories: Movie and Dining Reviews Tags: bridal shower games, kiss, legs, stupid stuff
Queen of pain: My life as Midtown dominatrix
Melissa Febos teetered in borrowed 7-inch stilettos, towering over the body of a naked middle-aged man.
she adjusted her garter, rearranged her Bettie Page-esque black bob, licked her cherry-red 99-cent lip gloss and struggled to breathe in a corset that cinched her waist down 6 inches. she frantically searched for the right words. how does one start this? she was so nervous, she burped.
“Yes, Mistress? are you all right?” asked the slave.
she felt his breath on her fishnet stockings and fought the urge to run away. it was the 21-year-old’s first time alone in the room with a client — just days after applying for work as a dominatrix in Midtown’s Mistress X dungeon.
instead, she found her calling.
“Yes, of course I’m all right. PIG!” she snapped, hardly recognizing her own voice. “Stop breathing on my legs, you crust of scum!”
Her client scampered away on all fours, waiting for the torture to begin.
Febos, whose dungeon name was “Mistress Justine” (after the Marquis de Sade’s submissive heroine), began her S&M double life in 2002.
By day, she was a top-earning dominatrix; by night, an English major at the Village’s new School with a 3.9 GPA.
“I didn’t end up at the dungeon out of financial desperation,” writes Febos in her memoir “Whip Smart” (St. Martin’s Press), out March 2. “I was not a tourist but a member of that world, with reasons for being there similar to those of everyone else: an obsession with power.”
Febos unshackles the secrets of her four years in the dungeon, which is hidden in plain sight in an office building off Herald Square. she made a few hundred dollars a day humiliating, whipping and torturing all kinds of men, from stockbrokers to rabbis, tourists to millionaire record executives.
she tells the Post that, contrary to stereotypes, she had a “unique and loving” childhood in rural Cape Cod. the daughter of a psychotherapist and a sea captain, Febos was preternaturally mature, deciding at 15 to drop out of high school, get her GED and move to Boston, where she took night classes at Harvard and waitressed during the day.
to pursue her dreams of becoming a writer, she moved to the Big Apple, started college classes and took internships in publishing. two years later, after moving from Chelsea to a fourth-floor walkup in Bedford-Stuyvesant, she met a woman who would forever change her world.
“She’s a professional dominatrix,” Febos’ roommate whispered about the law student next door.
Febos was intrigued, so she knocked on her door one afternoon. after an awkward introduction, Febos blurted out, “Is the money good?” she could use the cash to pay for air conditioning — and she hated taking money from her parents.
Queen of pain: My life as Midtown dominatrix
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