Friday is back at last. And we are happy. Why? Because we have no life until school starts again and for once – thanks to the Olympic games – it is totally acceptable to sit home on a Friday night. Eating Moo Shu. With our hands.
We do have a lot in store for the weekend. First up, a shopping trip to pick up the essentials: a sex machine, some not-so-slutty party clothes, some ingredients to woo that dude we met at Yoga (yes, he is a bit shorter than us, but he looks so good in Child’s Pose) and a little trip for Botox to fill in all those trouble spots from that trip to Vegas. (It was siiiiick.)
Then we have to plan that Welcome Week party and, seriously, just making the guest-list is a pain. Let’s just hope our ex doesn’t show up, cuz you know once that margarita hits our lips we won’t be able to keep our hands off him. (And we have to cuz according to Facebook, he’s got a new bitch.)
After that, it’s a Sunday filled with Disney movies, election coverage and, of course, scoping out the hotties at the Olympics.
TGIF. Enjoy it, ladies.





My phone is ringing. Again. And again. And again. At 4 a.m. my ex calls, just to shoot the breeze. I have to get up for work in three hours! The six missed calls earlier were not one, not two or three, but four different friends calling to find out what I was doing that evening and if I wanted to go out for drinks.
It’s summer.
Once upon a time, I was skinny. Not to say that I’m not within my healthy weight range now, but back then, I was mind-blowlingly small. I didn’t do anything special, really. I practiced yoga a few times a week in my basement bedroom with the door locked and mood music playing (and because of that, felt I could totally splurge on the double quarter pounder with cheese meal at McDonald’s if the urge struck.) Now, however, keeping my girlish figure takes twice the work – and my days of gorging myself with red meat are long gone.
