...Wish it weren't gonna be Monday (not exactly like the Bangles' song, but what evah)
My best friend and I have a long-standing tradition that we lovingly refer to as "Sunday Denial". This is where we pretend that we do not have to rise and f-ing shine at O'dark hundred the next morning, and commence to whooping it up, like it's 1999, or maybe, just another Saturday night (wow, lots of song titles in one sentence...overkill, maybe?) and we ain't got nobody. Now granted, we don't whoop it up like we used to - gone are the days of companionably drinking a half gallon of the Captain together and singing Ethel Merman-style until someone pukes or we go to breakfast, whichever comes first. No, staid old broads that we are now, its more of a "let's run away and leave the guys to fend for themselves with "cheap disgusting food" (sorry, movie quote from Arthur), while we go get some sushi takeout (because the sushi is better without the egregiously bad service) and hole ourselves up with a few bottles of the bubbly and anything movie-wise that includes one of the following: Colin Firth, Ciaran Hinds, Clive Owen, Matthew McConnaghey- your basic eye-candy (hey, it isn't festive without SOME form of dessert, and those guys are all cookie-licious!) Maybe this isn't your idea of how to run away from it all, and truthfully, if I had the money, it wouldn't be mine necessarily either, , but there it is - when you're "Livin' La Vida Broka", baby, you gotta work with what you got. When you live with three men, two of whom are children (well, maybe all three, but that is a post for another day!) a nice evening of Just Us Girls is a beautiful thing in itself - almost as relaxing as a day at the spa, without that strangeness of being butt nekkid in front of strangers, which frankly, is kind of a buzz-kill.
So let's break out the bubbly Bea! It's not really Sunday, is it??