Ahhh… what a lovely three-day weekend I’ve had.
Went out with the illustrious IndyGirl and my wonderful friend E to celebrate Lori’s birthday. Got tanked.
Felt like ass in the morning. Things got much better, though, after my vegan mashed potatoes and iced mocha. Yum, yum, yum. Went out later for Greek food with Manny and three of his old buddies (I mean old as in longevity, not age). Then I went home by myself while they stayed out. I ate ice cream and finished off the first eight episodes of the first season of The L Word. Hung out into the wee hours of the morning with Manny and listened to music from the nineties. Remarked on how much we both appreciate early Everclear. Decided that “Santa Monica” will be my new karaoke song.
Slept in. Stayed in. It was hot as hell outside. Made Manny a Chef Boyardee pizza for his birthday. Gave him a Christian birthday card and got him a giant bakery cookie with the word “Splunge” written on it. Watched Dr. Strangelove. Then hung around in bed watching Braveheart. During a commercial break, we had the following conversation:
Gigi: (rubs ass on Manny) Yeah, I know what you like. Know what you like?
Manny: Yeah. (flips to TV to history channel) Ships.
Woke up relatively early. Went running in park. Washed car. Parents came to town. Hung out with parents at the mall. Dinner at Olive Garden with parents. Hell yeah.
And that, friends, was my weekend.