I had a really weird weekend…
- There was the almost unbelievable, slightly hysterical family drama: A family member got shblammered at my cousin’s wedding and “accidently” tried to play a game of tonsil hockey with another family member. Um. No. “I thought you were my girlfriend” is like saying “I thought I could pee in this potted plant.” It’s never a good excuse and you’re gonna look like the fuck-up every single time. I’m sure she’s still washing her mouth out with bleach. and we thought we were the classy family.
- Then…Oh, hey everything, get in my mouth: I drank a lot of wine. And when I say a lot, imagine Robert Baratheon Game of Thrones size tankards. And then… because I drank wine, I ate. And that was also of Robert Baratheon proportions. ½ a mediterranean pizza, cake, cheeseburgers from McDevils, etc etc. Wedding trips evidently brutally murder my self-control.
But I had a good weekend too.
- The wedding: How do you NOT love a Star Wars themed obscenely over-priced soiree?
Exactly. You can’t. (yes that’s the groom’s cake)
- The Romancems: Convinced Chris to slow dance at the wedding. uh Woah. Then slyly coerced him to remain on the dance floor for a little fiasco with Ylvis. The fox says “Chris was not amused.” I was though and that’s what’s important.
- Hotel Motel Holiday Inn: There’s something about staying at a swanky hotel that makes me feel good about life. It’s like a vacation no matter where you are. Escapism? Absolutely… where we going?
- The other less creepster, more favorite cousin: I got to see him at the wedding and since he lives in LA and we never get to hang out anymore. It made me happy.
It was quite the all-around experience and it was nice to get out of town, but coming home was by far the highlight. I got back last night to:
- a relatively clean house
- a scale that is only 1 lb heavier than when I left *sold: one soul*
- and above all… to my favorite little girls.
We celebrated our return with a healthy dinner and a family snuggle session on the couch. The girls got to pick what we watched. Couch commando = True love, but in this scenario, a damn bad call.
ain’t that the truth.
BUT, in an unexpected and moderately pleasant turn of events, I actually liked watching Dance Moms with my daughters.…Mainly because afterward they were adorably over appreciative of my “non-crazy person” parenting skillz.
*turns off TV*
"Mom, thank you for being so awesome. I really love you.”
Ah shucks girls. I did manage not to call your dance teacher a raging whore and I almost never act like a fucking idiot in public when you’re around. Guess I really am the best.