The 7th annual Flamingo reunion, or as the Richmond Holiday Inn calls it, Yanks Gone Wild

The Flamingos consist of four maniacs with 12-year-old boy mentalities and one rational, responsible adult who keeps us in line. This weekend, me and the rest of the crazy girls found out what happens when left to our own devices, and it wasn't pretty. Here's a small sampling of things that would have went down differently had Erika been babysitting us instead of getting married:

The Drive Down
DH, Mrs. F and I spent seven hours in a car making dick and fart jokes. Beavis was quoted. Butthead was quoted. Napoleon Dynamite was quoted. Had Abs been in the car, she would have joined the fun. Had Erika been in the car, we would have been much more tentative, until one of us said something to make her crack a smile. Then, we would have upped the dick and fart jokes quotient by about 85 percent, at which time Erika would have told us she'd had enough, and we'd have stopped. Sort of.

The Hotel, Part I
We've never been terribly modest around one another, but this weekend, we let it all hang out. It began with DH busting out her breasts several times during the drive, and ended with DH and I Veeting together before we hit the hotel pool. In total, three cooters and four pairs of breasts were on display (the fourth being when we showed up at Abs' in Maryland and she wanted to show us how weird pregnancy had made her boobs look). Had Erika been there, DH still would have taken the girls out, although not as often, and any other nudity would have been due to changing clothes.

The Wedding
Mrs. F, DH and I mostly behaved ourselves at the wedding, which was at a botanical garden. That is, until we decided to grab the disposable camera from the table and walk around taking pictures. Something tells me that although Erika will find some of our pictures amusing when the film is developed, she may be disturbed by the sheer volume of crazy pictures we took, including the one of DH lifting her skirt.

The Hotel, Part II
The wedding broke up early, so we hit the hotel bar upon our return. Almost immediately, we met three guys. We chatted, they bought us shots, and then we decided to go skinny dipping in the hotel pool. Had Erika been with us, she most certainly would have reminded us that since we were actually staying at the hotel, we could very easily go put our suits on.

The moral of the story? We need Erika. Without her, the rest of us will drink too much, eat too much, swear too much, disrobe too much and go skinny dipping with strange boys. And I'm not sure about this, but we might be getting a little old for that.

Had Erika been there, I also wouldn't be rocking a scarf today to hide the hickey.

UPDATE: DH's take on the weekend.