Weekend in Crappy Pics

I pretty much dragged ass this whole weekend. Sorry but it’s true.

[ INSERT MENTAL PICTURE OF SLOTH HERE] *too lazy to find a non-copyrighted picture

I even thought about skipping my Weekend in Crappy Pics post today but I know you’re all just chomping at the bit to read about our last 48 hours…well, except for Carol R. from Cincinnati, who’s asked me at least 3 or 4 times to remove her from my email list. But you know what I said to Carol? “Carol, Winners never quit me and quitters never win! And you’re a winner, Carol! YOU’RE A WINNER!”

I’m now SPAM to her.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure that Thursday night is to “blame for my lame”. <— I just made that up. I’ll trademark it later.

Thursday night, I took Brian on a surprise date. It wasn’t a surprise date like “Surprise! We’re on a date.” because date nights require more planning than that, it was more like “Surprise! Can you guess why I brought you to this dive?”

He was looking for clues everywhere.

he was like:

and I was like:

I don’t want to hold you in suspense any longer…we were there to see a very popular comedian in our area, who’s frequently a guest on Brian’s favorite sports radio station. The guy did a bunch of sports humor and sports impressions and sports and sports, and other sports stuff, but it was a BYOB venue so I had a good time.

Afterwards, Brian was all giddy and in good spirits and in no hurry to get home so he suggested that we stop at the pub next door. I had a chocolate martini…then another…then I got all rambly with people about how I used to do custom handbags but had to stop because of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

On our way out, the bartender handed me these:

Latex gloves. Umm, what?

Turns out, he thought I said I used to do custom handjobs until I developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

Strangely, I wasn’t as bothered by the “handjobs” misunderstanding as I was baffled by the “custom” part. Is that even a thing? Who’s got time for that??? Anyway, I guess he wanted me to be “careful out there” so that was nice…I think.

When we arrived home, I clumsily paid the babysitter from an enveloped marked “ANA’S BIRTHDAY MONEY” and still came up $5 short.

I handed her the $45 and said, “Ana either needs to get a job or have more birthdays!” Then I laughed and laughed and…worst mom ever.

On Friday, “somebody shoot me” could be heard in the early hours of noon.

And that’s why I didn’t write a Free Advice Friday (for those keeping track at home). My advice would have been something along the lines of “Don’t drink . Ever.” and “Pay the babysitter a little something extra to buy her discretion.” Actually, the latter isn’t a bad idea.

How was your weekend? Tell me you were worthless too, please.