The kids left Friday morning.
By Friday night, Jared and I were ready to walk on the wild side.
We headed out for a romantic dinner at the local sports bar. Because nothing says romance and wild and crazy like a place with big screen TVs and free face painting on Wednesday nights.
Right. Awesome. I left my wallet at home and had to endure the conspiratory whispers of a waitress who thought she was doing me a favor by allowing me to have an alcoholic beverage with my meal. And instead of being flattered, I was trying to convince her that I was, in fact, damn near 30 years old.
Because I am well known for my ability to put a positive spin on things.
An hour later, we had finished our drinks and food and found ourselves staring out the windshield of the car.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s too bad it’s raining.”
“Yeah. We’d totally be doing something awesome if it wasn’t for the rain.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Want to see what’s in the Netflix envelopes at home?”
Two hours later I was asleep on my couch with my freshly painted toes in Jared’s lap and Will Smith’s Seven Pounds winding down on the TV. We party like rock stars around here. Clearly.
Saturday morning I awoke to an empty house and very little ambition to leave it. Jared had left for his Saturday morning office run and I was left to choose between getting caught up on work or sitting around in my underwear while I watched DVDs on my laptop. Jared was going to be gone the remainder of the day thanks to a golf outing and shark fishing excursion he had planned earlier. Yes – shark fishing. While I sat home and weighed the pros and cons of pants.
Clearly he is living a much cooler life than I am.
Although his online persona is Mister Britt – so at least I’m cooler on the Internet.
Oh like that’s more exciting than getting caught in your underwear by a cat. Seriously.
While Jared was off being classy and cool and not actually catching any sharks, by the way – I eventually took a shower and got dressed and headed out for my own wild and crazy night with Adam and Hilly. Adam’s wife had made plans for us to get together and head to Parliament House, a local gay bar and hotel resort that features a drag review show and really good drinks served by men in their underwear.
Unfortunately, someone decided it would be a good idea to stop at Adam’s house before going out so that we could have food and drinks first. Apparently, the idea is that you have a few drinks for basically free before you go to a bar, so that you don’t have to pay for expensive drinks at the bar all night.
Which is a theory I wish someone would have shared with me before Saturday night.
Or at least before I ordered a single and then a double of booze, booze and food coloring disguised as diet pop.
It has had been a very long time since I have gotten so drunk that I made a complete and total ass off myself. Sure, I get giggly. Sure, I’ve gotten a little louder and more profane than normal. What I have not done is cornered beautiful gay dancers and made them take pictures with me and then discuss the importance of teaching dance to the youth of America.
That poor son of a bitch.
Why, yes. I am a straight girl with my face nuzzled into the breasts of one of my very best girlfriends. Of course, I am.
Because no one told me that not eating carbs means there is nothing to soak up the way too much booze you are drinking.
Seriously. There are no words to explain to you how obnoxious I was by the end of Saturday night. Well, unless you follow me on Facebook or Twitter – in which case there are lots and lots of words and not nearly enough correct punctuation. My mother must be so proud.
I woke up Sunday morning with a headache and a google calendar reminder that I had to meet Shari and Melanie at the outlet mall for a pre-BlogHer shopping trip. Because I am a trooper, I refused to reschedule and instead dragged my ass out into public with no makeup or product in my hair. Because that’s exactly a great idea when you’re going to spend your day in front of mirrors.
It’s no wonder I didn’t find shit to buy. I did, however, find lots of stuff for Shari and Melanie to buy. Unfortunately, that did little to soften my bitchiness about not finding anything for myself.
Bad shopping trips make me cranky. It is, as I told the girls, like sex without an orgasm – a disappointment made worse by the fact that it is something you normally love and that everyone else is having a productive time.
In short, I was a freaking joy to be around this weekend. And clearly the fact that I normally have children to take care of is keeping me from living a super exciting and awesome life.
Who wants to hang out with me tomorrow?