And all is Well.

I have been at work such a very, very long time and as eager as I am to go home, I'm even more eager TO TELL YOU ABOUT MY FUCKING WEEKEND.

Perhaps eager is a strong word choice. But everyone else gets to talk about their weekend and SO WILL I.

My weekend: Superfantabulous.

Friday: BB King at Riverfest. Beer. Drama involving ex-friend-who-is-a-boy-but-involved-exceptional-amount-of-benefits-who-was-removed-some-months-past-and-who-has-not-been-seen-since-October-because-he-moved-to-Oklahoma. Hear voice behind me and he's sitting NOT THREE INCHES from my head. Long eye contact. Have awkward conversation with boy where awkwardness is acknowledged. Sleep.

Saturday: beer, eating, beer, jam band, beer, contact high, beer, Black Crows at Riverfest, beer, stumbling home over the river bridge and walking to my apartment BECAUSE MY APARTMENT FUCKING ROCKS AND IS WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE OF DOWNTOWN. (4 blocks, to be precise). Sleep.

Sunday: hangover, chat with mom while Nair'ing legs, forget about Nair on legs and BURN THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF MY THIGHS. Especially that very delicate and tender area oh-so-near the nanny area. (nanny is code for pussy. but pussy is a un-delicate word that true ladies such as myself NEVER USE.) Put on most non-touchy underwear possible. read: none. Put on soft cotton stretchy pants and hoodie, walk delicately out to car and drive to meet lileeeee. Drive to Starbucks for coffee that eliminates hangover but does nothing for burned inner thighs though yummy berry cake distracts me for a minute while I contemplate the meaning of berry cake and lemon icing. Drive to lake, get on boat, starts to rain, pull hoodie over head and relax. Beer. Nap. Eat. Beer. TV shows till 3am. Sleep.

Monday: Eat. TV. Beer. Drive home and attempt to watch DVD (as am too poor for cable, as well as internet) when DVD player STOPS WORKING AND I BECOME VERY DISTRAUGHT BECAUSE THE DVD PLAYER IS MY ONLY SOURCE OF MINDLESS ENTERTAINMENT. Drive to Target, buy new DVD player and purchase snazzy antenna that claims to be high-powered enough to pick up local channels. Drive home, fiddle with DVD player, finally get cords in correct slots and might I mention that if you're going to make red-tipped cords and red-tipped holes, then MAKE SURE THE RED THINGS ACTUALLY GO TOGETHER BECAUSE THAT CRAP CONFUSES POOR GIRLS SUCH AS MYSELF. Hook up antenna. No drama. Watch rest of movie. Assemble weird Glade plug-in oil things and place throughout new apartment because have not been able to rid apartment of other-person smell. Smell is remniscent of sweaty kids and smoky smoky. Apartment becomes overwhelmed by scent of lavender garden spring rain linen showers. Realize oil thingees have A DIAL FOR WHICH TO CONTROL SCENT and turn down dial to bring scent to moderate level. Sleep.