TGIF... man

Today is the day that I have been waiting all week for: Friday. In all honesty I've been whining and moaning about this week since I first stepped foot in my job early Monday morning. For some reason this has been an exceedingly tough week, though I really don't know why specifically. Work hasn't been abnormally laborious or anything, and neither has life. Truthfully, I've been hitting the sack before 10 o'clock almost every night this week, something that is unusual for a night owl like myself.

In a nut shell, this week has been a routine schedule of: waking up, going to work, coming home from work, eating some food, taking my dog out to go pee, watching sleezy tv shows, and then going to bed. Nothing too exciting and/or exhausting. In fact, most of the geriatric patients at my work facility have more exhilarating schedules than I've had this past week.



They are laughing at how lame my life has been lately.


Nonetheless, I'm very relieved that today is Friday and that I will have the next two days to recharge myself. To kick things off with a "bang" I'm attending another one of those 'ladies nights' I spoke about in a previous post. As usual there will be a lot of carbs, wine, and feminine banter. A number of the women are bringing their children and, since I didn't want to be left out, I announced that I would be bringing my dog. Like all mothers, I just hope my child doesn't poop on the floor or chew a hole in the leather sofa. Knowing my child though and her love of delinquency, I'm almost certain something of the sort will occur.

(Rebekah, the hostess of this event, I apologize in advance and promise to pay for any and all damages my dog causes... well, so long as they are under $40.00.)

I will once again be cautious of my wine consumption so that I don't succumb to another alcohol induced pig out (as also explained in my previous post). All it takes is more than two glasses of vino and then I start having romantic fantasies in which I am slopping saliva with this big guy:

This pizzaburger would B's final meal if he were ever on death row


Plus it's never good to get sloppy drunk in front of your child(ren). I don't want my seven month old rottweiler to grow up and be a drunk floozy on the streets. I have bigger dreams for her than that.