So I had my requisite Friday night Ketel One martini. Um, and two pizzas -- BUT they were hoity toity hipster bar portions AND shared with Schmoobliebonniebonbons. The first pizza was BBQ duck with mandarin oranges and some other stuff that I can't remember. It was good. The second one was grape tomatoes, pesto and goat cheese. Yum. I heart goat cheese. Especially when accompanied by caramelized onions which, unfortunately, were not one this pizza. Otherwise it would have been REALLY good.
Oh, and when did it become okay for thirteen year old girls to wear shorts out in public that have less fabric than my underwear? Jesus Christ. I passed by a little teeny bopper with her group of youth (ugh) friends with microscopic tight short shorts that, even with the minimal fabric it was made of, still managed to have slits up both legs that went all the way up her hips practically to her goddamn waist. Ugh. Remind me never to have a daughter. And if I do, remind me to send her to a nunnery on her thirteenth birthday.
My only goal of the night is to make it into my bedtime shower and actual bed before passing out for the night. Ugh, this after just one cocktail? For shaaame. I guess that's what happens when you're not 22 years old anymore. Blaaaar.
Man, my eyelids weigh like ten pounds each right now. I wonder if this is the night when "resting my eyes for a minute" will actually mean "resting my eyes for a minute" and not "passing out and waking up at 4am sprawled out on the couch with Food Network on television."
Oh Christ, I think I'm still hungry. WHY ISN'T THERE A WHITE CAKE WITH WHIPPED CREAM AND BUTTERCREAM FROSTING SITTING IN FRONT OF MY FACE RIGHT NOW?!?! Or some warm apple pie... Or some hot peach cobbler with a brown sugar crisp on top and vanilla ice cream on the side...
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