My friends are participating in a Sunday Funday at some sort of mini-bowl, but I’m trapped inside, chugging coffee on this overly sunny Sunday because I have to write three more website pages about windows.

If you wish your life could be more like college, you should consider becoming a copywriter.

This is what I did before 7 this morning:

I arranged 8,000 pink cake pops.

The fact that you are the kind of person who thinks it’s a good idea to order take-out from the same place every weekend because of the off-chance that this is the night when the guy working there sees your number on the order receipt and calls you and admits that he has a huge crush on you too, is why you are also the kind of person who has watched three movies on Netflix instant with your dog tonight. 

I think I will have green beer in my stomach forever.

Look, everyone, I am alive and at home, watching a movie with my parents!

This weekend I got separated from my friends and was stranded outside of a Brazilian drumming concert at the Majestic Theater in Madison. You know, it was a Saturday night, so I had been doing some recreational drinking with my friends, and my judgment was probably a little impaired. I ended up hailing a cab that was not actually a cab, apparently. Inside, the driver looked exactly like Snoop Dogg. He had those little mini braids and everything. There were two other men in the car who were both smoking and drinking from some sort of open container, so if they had killed me or something, it wouldn’t have been their first illegal offense of the evening. I gave them my address, which was probably a ridiculous thing to do, but I kind of still believed I was in a cab. They drove me around the entire city of Madison, Wisconsin for an hour, before they pulled up to a street somewhere near the co-op house where I was staying, so I opened the door and rolled out of the slowly-moving vehicle. I don’t really remember doing this. Although my captors seemed benevolent, they would not let me out of their car. While I was in the car, I called all of my friends who live in Madison, and some who do not live anywhere near Madison, and asked them to rescue me from a moving vehicle. That was a ridiculous thing to do. Whenever I’m in these kinds of situations, which isn’t very often, because I’m generally a rational person with fairly sound judgment, I immediately force myself into the worst possible hypothetical situation, which is usually Silence of the Lambs inspired, and ask myself if i could kill my captor’s dog if he was harvesting me to be made into a skin suit. So that’s what I was doing last night.

This morning, I noticed that I ripped my tights and skinned both my knees, but I did NOT turn into a human lampshade or end up buried in a backyard. I ended up inside, rolled up in a blanket outside my friend’s door, petting a cat.

So if these mysterious men had thrown my body into one of Madison’s many lakes or made me into a skin suit and wore me around their homes, my parents would have had the Majestic Theater to blame, for their ridiculous policy of overselling their shows and helping unfortunately intoxicated people become separated from their friends. HUMPH. 

Last weekend, I met a person who liked Nickelback in an earnest, non-ironic way, so that was also exciting and enlightening.

You guys, I am just so thankful to be alive right now. 

Scenes from my Friday night, featuring a lino block and a TiVo’d edition of the Westminster Kennel Club dog show. 

Really coming into my own in my premature goddess stage.

Eating an entire large pizza, watching Two and a Half Men on mute and posting forlorn things about Whitney Houston on Facebook. In case you were wondering, I have been single for sort of a long time and no, I don’t get it either. If you could only see me now, men of America.

I accidentally dressed like a mall rat to have dinner with my grandparents this afternoon. Yep, I’m wearing those bamboo hoop earrings and an off-the-shoulder shirt and also some lace-up combat-type boots. Super moody. I need to stop watching so much Skins.

Single ladies wine night.

In case you were thinking it was absolutely impossible, this night actually continued to improve. I have kept drinking and migrated to the basement, where I am listening to a three song playlist and using my parents’ Nordic Track like I’m actually running up the aisle to meet Ryan Gosling or Lil Wayne or something.

Related - My brother just offered this relationship advice: “I was watching a Comedy Central special about this comedian who just died, and he was talking about male and female relationships and he said something like, women need to understand that all men are bears and all women are salmon coated in honey. So it’s most likely that it was probably an accident.”

People are like, why don’t you go out anymore, what do you even do with your life, are you having fun? And I’m just like, do you know my life? Fun doesn’t even begin.

In honor of Lakefront Brewery’s anniversary, and as a way of celebrating my arrival home from work before 5:30 (!), I’m wearing my beer-drinking sweater and drinking one of my favorites, Eastside Dark, in bed. Pretty exciting Friday night over here, folks.

If I ever get married, the only detail of which I’m certain (other than the elephant rides, natch) is that there will be never-ending kegs of Lakefront on hand.

This is what a leopard print chaise lounge looks like in the back of a U-Haul van. If ever you are looking for an activity to fill the first two and a half hours of your Saturday, take note that it is possible to notice the perfect posting on Craigslist, drive to the other side of town to retrieve it, attempt to fit a chaise lounge into a two-door Saturn coupe with only the assistance of your five foot tall girlfriend (this is me), leave to rent a U-Haul for $19.95, toss the chaise lounge inside, and have it positioned in your bedroom before 11:30 a.m. Also note that a mere eight hours later, it will be possible to entertain and impress female party guests (this is not me) on the chaise lounge that you did not, in fact, haul all by yourself.

I am the guest star of my parents’ Labor Day vacation.