Well here we are, Monday morning yet again. Why does Monday get 1/7th of my time? I'd way rather give Saturday half of Monday's time. Can we start a petition for that? Or else just eradicate Mondays all together (although that leaves the problem of Tuesdays - they'll start being the evil day and then we'll have to deal with that. Soon the week will comprise of Friday, Saturday and Sunday but we'll hate every other Friday because it will technically be a Monday).
Moving on, I guess I could tell you about how Saturday I went to Taste of Calgary and flirted shamelessly with one of the guys handing out beers. He was hot so I'm forgiven. Turns out he is friends with Blondie's friend, Trainer. He used to be a trainer too so he's got muscles and height which are a good combination in my eyes. I hate being set up but if we all happen to go out sometime I won't complain. Meaning, we better all go out sometime or I will complain.
Saturday night I had my mother over for dinner. I made portobello mushroom chicken and roasted peppers with a salad. At least the food was pretty good. My mother is very hard to explain so I won't bother trying. I'll just say that after dinner we drank a bottle of wine, a bottle of mojitos, and some coolers.
Frenchie and her sister showed up, because the three of us were going to this housewarming party together. For the first half an hour all was good, my mom was well-behaved although super drunk and trying a little too hard to be funny. When she tries to be funny she ends up being mean.
For example, Frenchie and her sis Pouts, look very young. They are 28 and 30 but look about 18 or 20. My mother started on about them being so cute but then she started talking about how flat-chested Pouts is. I think it was something like Pouts is flat-chested but Frenchie makes up for it in her ass (which is a lovely ass - very J-Lo-esque).
So Frenchie says "I think it's time to go". This was either before or after my mother asked if she could reverse time and have an abortion 24 years ago (that's when I was born). Yes, my mother the comedian. All night the girls were like "hm ya ok, we get it why you get upset about her".
I'm used to it, but it's strange for someone else's mother to be insulting you I would guess.
The housewarming party was good although the cops showed up twice (I had a flashback to High School) and Blondie and I decided cartwheels were fun to do down the street. I have sore arms, neck, legs and back today. Who knew cartwheels hurt so much.
Sunday was spent in the fetal position on the couch with popcorn and water. I did manage to get myself up to go to a movie at the most crowded theatre on earth. Why is it that when you look your worst you run into the people you definitely don't want to see?
I ran into a high school girlfriend, who was all perfectly groomed and dressed. Meanwhile I'm wearing ripped jeans (from the days when that was trendy - circa 2005) and an old Guess sweater with my hair up in a messy bun. Then I ran into HottieMcDoMeNow who I know from the private club I used to work at.
Why oh why wasn't I wearing my new dress? Why didn't I have on some fake eyelashes? Why didn't I brush my hair before leaving the house?
I guess some things we'll just never know.
Moving on, I guess I could tell you about how Saturday I went to Taste of Calgary and flirted shamelessly with one of the guys handing out beers. He was hot so I'm forgiven. Turns out he is friends with Blondie's friend, Trainer. He used to be a trainer too so he's got muscles and height which are a good combination in my eyes. I hate being set up but if we all happen to go out sometime I won't complain. Meaning, we better all go out sometime or I will complain.
Saturday night I had my mother over for dinner. I made portobello mushroom chicken and roasted peppers with a salad. At least the food was pretty good. My mother is very hard to explain so I won't bother trying. I'll just say that after dinner we drank a bottle of wine, a bottle of mojitos, and some coolers.
Frenchie and her sister showed up, because the three of us were going to this housewarming party together. For the first half an hour all was good, my mom was well-behaved although super drunk and trying a little too hard to be funny. When she tries to be funny she ends up being mean.
For example, Frenchie and her sis Pouts, look very young. They are 28 and 30 but look about 18 or 20. My mother started on about them being so cute but then she started talking about how flat-chested Pouts is. I think it was something like Pouts is flat-chested but Frenchie makes up for it in her ass (which is a lovely ass - very J-Lo-esque).
So Frenchie says "I think it's time to go". This was either before or after my mother asked if she could reverse time and have an abortion 24 years ago (that's when I was born). Yes, my mother the comedian. All night the girls were like "hm ya ok, we get it why you get upset about her".
I'm used to it, but it's strange for someone else's mother to be insulting you I would guess.
The housewarming party was good although the cops showed up twice (I had a flashback to High School) and Blondie and I decided cartwheels were fun to do down the street. I have sore arms, neck, legs and back today. Who knew cartwheels hurt so much.
Sunday was spent in the fetal position on the couch with popcorn and water. I did manage to get myself up to go to a movie at the most crowded theatre on earth. Why is it that when you look your worst you run into the people you definitely don't want to see?
I ran into a high school girlfriend, who was all perfectly groomed and dressed. Meanwhile I'm wearing ripped jeans (from the days when that was trendy - circa 2005) and an old Guess sweater with my hair up in a messy bun. Then I ran into HottieMcDoMeNow who I know from the private club I used to work at.
Why oh why wasn't I wearing my new dress? Why didn't I have on some fake eyelashes? Why didn't I brush my hair before leaving the house?
I guess some things we'll just never know.
12 comments:
That portobello mushroom dish looks mighty tasty. As you're looking for a dude, why don't you put that picture on a shirt with caption, "And I cook too".
You ladies who think guys care what you're wearing crack me up!
Ugh....it always happens that way. Without fail, we will always run into someone we don't want to see when we feel like we are looking our worst.
It's funny you mention the ripped jeans...I found a pair of jeans in the way back of my closet this weekend, remebered how much I loved them and wore them to go out.Twice. They had a rip in one of the knees and I didn't even care. Sometimes it's okay to rock the ripped jeans, I'm sure you looked better than you felt.
Haha, I'm with Mathdude...
Well, not physically WITH him, he's probably in a whole different country or something. But anyways, I concur with his statement.
The less you try, the more you succeed. Example: not getting dressed at all will work better than getting dressed up all fancy.
But if we examine the less extreme examples, casual clothes will work a lot better than dresses. Unless the guy is from some other country where the more gold items you can affix to yourself, the better. Unless that's what you're after.
I'm saying this like I know, but in reality I have absolutely no clue.
You probably could be wearing sweatpants and a shirt that says" Jesus likes to dance" and guys wouldn't care.
Unless they don't like Jesus dancing.
then its weird.
Goddammit Alice. I was content just having a Natural Light for dinner and then I stumbled across this post about REAL food.
And now I'm starving.
When you can't really afford to go outside your house, drinking to the point of collapse is a pretty sweet alternative.
I tried to do a cartwheel a couple of days ago and it was a shock how much work it was for my arms. Either I'm heavier or weaker than I used to be.
Drinking too much with your mom sounds like a recipe for trouble. Next thing you know she'll be telling you how your dad used to write her erotic poetry. Or is that just mine?
I read this yesterday and could have sworn I made a very funny comment. I don't remember what my genius brain thought up, but I'm pretty sure it was the stuff of comment legend. No joke. Alas, it is not here. Either I was very high on the meth (quite possible) and thought I made a comment when in actuality I was just typing random shit into the browser address bar thinking it was the comment box, or I really only dreamt that you wrote this post, and in my dreams left a comment, to find out my guardian angel did not transcribe it here.
I really couldn't tell you.
Mom drunk and trying to be funny? Your poor friends. :(
It would be dumb to brush your hair if it's like his, I mean, that look just oozes sex appeal.
you're sooo right! every time I decide to go without makeup there's a million people I know that I just happen to see.
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