Being Good Isn't Always Easy, No Matter How Hard I Try

Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Saturday. Saturday was busy as hell. I woke-up and got the girls to track practice at nine. Coadster went to soccer practice after that and I went on a 6 mile run. Aaaahhhh.

In the afternoon we went to the big scary maul to get even more shin guards for soccer, and a sweater for Stinky to wear with the dress she picked out to make her confirmation in on Wednesday night. Of course, I couldn't resist the comic book t-shirts in the boy's section at Old Navy either. That's me wearing my new Silver Surfer t-shirt out later that night.

At 6:30 I headed to my friends' house and let them make me an amazing dinner of manicotti, salad and bread and then tell me hilarious stories of all of their most recent bar exploits. They usually go out a couple of nights a week, which I couldn't handle even if I didn't have kids. Luckily, hearing their stories is just as much fun as experiencing it all myself. By the time we were ready to go out, we were laughing so hard we were crying.

For some reason, I had a hard time rallying myself to be out and about. I had a great night by myself on Friday, and I wasn't so into the social scene. My friend G. had gone out the night before, and was feeling the same way, so the first hour or so, we both watched other people's antics. Which seemed to include a lot of yelling and screaming at the television broadcasting the Cubs game.

I finally hit my stride and amused myself by pointing my camera at my friend Bryan. Apparently, it's impossible for him not to make a goofy face when he realizes he's being photographed.

I love our group of guy friends. A lot of them are still in their twenties and we have a big sister relationship with them, where we boss them around and give them shit until they want to punch us, but they take it and are pretty good natured about it. A few weeks ago, one of the guys was talking to me and talking to me and talking to me and he wouldn't stop, and I even gave him shit about it, but I guess he couldn't help it. I just sat there with my eyes glazed over while he "Blah, blah, blahed". Finally, my friend G. came over and looked at me and then looked at the guy and said,

"Honey, you are so adorable...But why are you still speaking?" And I was ever so grateful.

In the photo above, they're all singing along to Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacher Man". I'm sure if it weren't for Pulp Fiction, they never would have heard of that song.

My hot crazy friends showed up at the very end of the night, right when all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I did apologize for not having anything to say. They had just come back from some weird body building competition in the Quad Cities. My friend Lyd is a humanities professor and loves spectacle more than just about anything else.

I took the photo above while we were waiting for Lyd's husband to show up and give us a ride home. Some bonehead with a chaw in his mouth decided we really wanted to hear what he had to say. Guess what? He thought wrong.

And that was my Saturday night. I hope you had the night that was right for you.