Ok. Darren is napping. I’ve had a nap and recovered from a possible heart attack. The nap was necessary. The heart palpitations came from discovering we were out of popcorn, which I found. Disaster avoided. Parmesan popcorn…come to momma. Yum.
But now Darren is up. So hold on a sec.
Ok. Now I need to extend a heartfelt apology for not keeping up my blogging as of late. I am sorry. But I do have a plausible excuse. I have been super tired lately. Like, falling asleep on the keyboard tired. Like fast asleep drooling on my blogging notebook tired. But before you start getting too excited jumping to conclusions, I am not pregnant.
The real reason is that about two weeks ago I had a crazy night on my soon to be sister-in-law’s twenty first birthday, which I still haven’t recovered from. But before you start jumping to conclusions, I was not plastered or even a forth of a sheet to the wind. But the night did include stripper poles, a hot Samoan club bouncer, freezing our arses’ off, an annoying drunk girl starting fights on the light rail, and getting home at three-thirty in the morning only to wake up at five to get to work by seven.
The stripper pole sounds sexy (it can be found at Sneaky Pete’s in downtown Minnapolis) and in part it was, but nothing freaking went on. It does have to be mentioned to explain the hot Samoan bouncer, who protected us from the nasty drunk guys trying to ruin our fun by slapping our butts. But he did a great job. We danced the night away until the club closed; which is when we started freezing our arses off.
Being from lil ole southern Minnesota where they don’t have coat checks, we left our coats at the hotel. So while we looked cute and we were a bit on the chilly side, especially after failing to hail a cab (no one had room for five freezing girls. We took the light rail back to the Mall of America. Where we had to walk around to the cab pick-up station; once there we proceed to wait for forty-five minutes for the nonexistent cab we had called to pick us up.
I don’t even want to talk about the annoying drunk girl. The memory of her voice still grates on my nerves now.
Three-thirty found us back at the hotel. Five found me slipping out of the hotel into a waiting car. Six-thirty found me at work. Where I proceeded to work an eight hour shift.
Last night found me falling asleep at the pen once again. Two weeks later at the age of twenty-four I have come to the conclusion. I am too old for those type of shenanigans. Not saying that it wouldn’t happen again, because it was wonderful to be out dancing on the town. But next time I know the price I will pay for it afterward.
So again, I am truly sorry for the dwindling blogposts. For not following those who are following me (will be doing that next.) I should be up to par in about another week.