A Life Under Construction: How To Get Away With Murder

How I managed to murder 2 people this weekend without even knowing it is beyond me. But, when they carted me off in those handcuffs, it became clear that I certainly must have been the culprit. And so, here is my mock confession – a la OJ Simpson “If I did It” style (he also claims to have killed two people and, yet, have no memory of it at all). Keep in mind this is all hypothetical, of course.

First I recalibrated the headphones belonging to my rock star boyfriend, Poison, so that it would shock him to death the next time he used them (a little trick I learned from my many years working with sound equipment as a singing diva myself). Unfortunately it wasn’t Poison who used the headphones – it was his (and MY) manager. Bummer. I killed the wrong guy. Which meant my lying, cheating boyfriend got to live. But, I did manage to stab the floozy he was cheating on me with to death with a spork. And I was thankful for the small victory, but not for long. Soon I was caught – found out – exposed. And I could have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid … and those dogs too. Ultimately I was brought down by the evidence presented by a 4-year-old girl. Oh the shame! But, thankfully (like all the famous killers in the media), I got off easy … maybe all they had on me was circumstantial evidence? Perhaps there was some reasonable doubt in the jury’s mind? In either case, I only had to spend a few minutes in cuffs before being whisked away to a night of partying Casey Anthony style.

What’s this all about? I’m talking about my 1980s themed Murder Mystery Bridal Shower of course. And it was, like, totally rad.

Over the years I have attended many a bridal shower and have, lovingly, pretended to go along with all the cheesetastic games that come along with them. And while I do see how having activities at an event is crucial, especially when you’re bringing together people who may or may not know each other so well, I’m so glad that my amazing bridesmaids decided to do something a little more “out of the box” for my shower. And since it was my big day I got to be the killer … and apparently thanked my sister for this honor by ramming plastic utensils into her chest. But of course it was all pretend – a fitting flashback to the “real” 1980s, when sis and I used to perform in all sorts of corny hometown plays featuring similar content. In fact, it was my sister’s love of acting that allowed her to make friends with the owner of The Murder Mystery Company, who carefully crafted the plot and outlined the roles each of my friends would play in the mystery we were asked to solve – roles that ranged from a kleptomaniac to a doctor, hippie, supermodel, photojournalist and more … and each came with a ridiculous outfit (though, to be fair, with our teased hair, jelly bracelets and loud neon 80s clothing it was hard to make us look MORE ridiculous). But everyone was a good sport about it – even those who would have preferred that we stuck to traditional fare like bridal bingo and making a wedding dress out of toilet paper (games which, to my pleasure, were left off the agenda).

We did, however, stick to tradition for the “bachelorette party” portion of the evening – heading out to the bars for a ladies night out. We had dinner at the Hard Rock Café, naturally, where they really did treat us like actual 80s rock stars, showing us up to the VIP room full of rare Beatles paraphernalia and a grand piano autographed by 52 musicians. Then we partied like it was 1999 … or, errr … 1989 at a variety of clubs, played a rousing drinking game that, oddly enough, involved a bingo card, took attitude from a surly waiter at a dueling piano bar and made friends with some guys who just happened to find the sunglasses we lost earlier that evening. Oh and, of course, what sort of 80s party would it be if I didn’t make like Debbie Gibson (or perhaps a band just a smidge more hard core than Electric Youth) and sing my own version (and I can assure you it sounded very little like the original so it really was my own version) of a rock song – karaoke style. And, naturally, I got the full rock star treatment with backup singers, live guitarists and a drummer to give me a little oomph up on stage while I croaked out Kiss’ “Rock n’ Roll All Night.” And, yeah, I even worked out some sweet dance moves as well (which really just means I jumped up and down while screaming “You keep on shouting! You keep on shouting!!”) Let me tell you, this is how I should always roll – with a full rock band backing me up. But mostly because if they can play/sing louder than me it would really help me to sound less terrible.

Sadly, try as they might, they couldn’t top the high decibels at which I massacred that song. But I did have one poor fella fist pumping up at the stage the whole time. I can only assume he was deaf … but I appreciated his support nonetheless. Of course, I got lots of encouragement from my own “entourage” of friends as well. And that was really the point of it all.

That said, it took a bit of liquid courage to get me up there in the first place … and Sunday morning was not my friend. Binging like a 80s rock star does have its downside. But, hey, I wanted to rock and roll all night – it’s just that my body disagreed that I should also be able to party every day. I wouldn’t trade a minute of it though – it was truly a blast and I am so lucky to have such wonderful friends to go along with all of this nonsense for me. Here a just a few photos of the fantastic ladies I’m lucky enough to have in my life.

My amazing Bridesmaids, who were wonderful enough to throw this party for me (Note: No, the pup is not in the wedding party and yes, he is bitter about it)