ADD - Journal Style

Because I can't muster enough energy to compose something lengthy and workable about any one subject, I'm gonna throw out everything I have to write about all in one deliciously excessive post. And then I shall complain for the rest of the week that I have nothing to write about. Sexy how that works out, no?

So, this weekend:

• Friday: Made it to 7:30pm before passing out on the couch like a 70 year-old. A boring 70 year-old. In my defense, I had been up until 3:00 the previous night and ended up getting a total of 2 hours of sleep after the Sprinkler Malfunction of Death occurred outside my window, which was immediately followed by the Summoning of the Authorities to My Neighbor's Apartment. Still, the loss of a weekend night makes me very bitter.
• Saturday: The Truck of Malfunction engaged in a surprising plot twist when it decided to, *gasp*, malfunction as I was heading off to see SMU in yet another glorious loss. Missed game and instead became covered in grease, oil and other painfully smelly things to triumphantly fix the TOM. Am truly a manly grease-monkey. Although afterwards, had to wash with mango-scented body wash, neutralizing most of the manliness.
• Continuing Saturday: Tried to recapture my youth by getting drunk and attending a college party. Had forgotten how much I missed drinking games. Very easy to pick back up, was just like riding a bicycle. . .only drunkenly. Seem to have bruised my knuckles playing WTF (note to self: Wooden tables are out for that sort of game). Felt v. old, but was heartened when freshmen would not believe I was alumnae. This may have something to do with the fact that most alumni who show up seem to be about 30, but I take my victories where ever I find them.
• Sunday: Worked yet another Texas Stadium Job From Beyond Hell. This time I was in charge of scads of money and a tiny tiny booth out on the south endzone. Made more money that ever before, but somehow that translated into less tips than I would have made had I just decided to dance to the music in my head with an empty hat in front of me (or so I'd like to imagine). I blame the very old man who was my second in command and his complete deafness, along with my lovely assistant who was unable to do simple math (6 X 6 = 52? The hell you say?). I most certainly would not blame it on my inefficiency at getting change in any sort of timely manner, or my surly attitude about working after a night of heavy drinking, or my inability to open a bottle of beer without wincing due to my bruised knuckles. It must have been them, I say.
• Continuing Sunday: Went directly from the game to out with freshman brother Randy on his weekend trip to Dallas. Good times all around, even if I was coated in a fine sheen of beer and defeat and dressed as the lost Peruna handler. Realized that one should always be wearing something tighter than a XXXL polo shirt when jaunting down to Oak Lawn. Called it a night early, due to fact that I almost fell over in exhaustion within the first half hour at the bar.

So there. My weekend's worth of stories spent in one huge blast. I feel better now, don't you?