Yawn. Stretch. Crack.
Is it really after 10? Does my brain really feel this clear and mountain-fresh clean?
Yes. Yes it does.
Last night was our first childless night since March, when we let loose and did this. If you don’t like happy little cookie people, I'll give you a quick synopsis: Chuck and I hit Lenscrafters and downed a 6-pack in the mall parking lot for Date Night I. Do I even need to tell you that expectations for Date Night II were much higher? I mean, through the roof higher.
So hold on kiddies, here we go:
Venue #1: Mulletville’s version of a lounge bar
After dolling ourselves up, Chuck and I walked to downtown Mulletville and had some sliders. And beer. And Red Headed Sluts. I ran into the publisher of the local paper. Apparently my editorial board contributions have been completely unremarkable because I had to re-introduce myself for the 15,000,000th time. Chuck and I befriended an octogenarian named Corky, whose wife left him to clean his dentures in some Sam Adams while she played Black Jack at the casino.
Time of departure: 6:45 p.m.
Venue #2: WalMart
Chuck bought the new Hellboy and I bought Woolite. For shits and giggles I threw a Glamour in the cart. Just to, you know, keep up appearances.
Time of departure: 7:25 p.m.
Venue #3: Mulletville’s version of an Irish pub
After we pulled into the driveway and realized it wasn’t even eight o’clock, we decided we were utterly pathetic. So we walked back to downtown Mulletville and hit one last bar, where we had more Red Headed Sluts and I ran into a co-worker dining alone. Apparently my graphic design contributions to my company have been completely unremarkable because I had to re-introduce myself for the 15,000,000th time. The cure for his contrition? More shots.
Time of departure: 8:44 p.m.
Venue #4: Home
Chuck popped in Hellboy and I promptly fell asleep. Can you blame me?
Ok, so we have become the lamest couple on the planet. But you know what I've learned? A night without Junior is good for the noggin. And I've still got it: Corky thought I was cute. Really, really cute.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve already missed a wedding ceremony this morning, and I don’t think blogging is an acceptable reason to miss the reception.
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.