It's Friday night. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Wooo! Partayyy! Back that ass up!
I'm going to get groceries.
You know, in the old days, back when I was still trolling for men, this would be an hour or two before I'd start getting ready to go out. I'd get me some shower wine (that first glass you drink while you're showering. Was that just me?), some music going, my black tights ready cause it was the '80s. And man. You would not see me again until the wee hours of the next day.
Sometimes I miss trolling for men. I don't actually miss any of the men. I'm glad I'm married. I'm glad I'm married to Marvin Gardensalad. Things could have turned out much worse. But I miss the anticipation. Maybe this would be the night I'd meet a prince. At the Hamilton Street Pub in Saginaw, Michigan. Mmm-hmmm.
I miss all the drama. Maybe Cindy would see her old boyfriend and cry in the parking lot all night. Maybe I would make out with Cindy's old boyfriend. Life was full of mystery and sleaze.
Anyway, I have made a list of healthy grocery items that I am going to buy. They include things like yogurt and tomatoes and cheese sticks and water. Somebody hold me back.
Also tonight, after my big night out at the grocery store (what should I wear? Should I put on Obsession or Giorgio?), I am coming home and running three miles to see what my sad pace is. This will give me a starting point for training for this half-marathon. I predict the fastest I can run is 14 minutes a mile. I am not even kidding. I understand that most people could go that fast if they were asleep. Sue me. You've gotta start somewhere.
Talk at you later. After I've busted a move. To the grocery store.