How to repair your weekend after a sh*tty Friday:

Well, maybe you just don't, but you can try real hard.

I feel completely foolish (or as I prefer to say: retarded), since after my lovely blog entry somehow B and I managed to get in a ridiculous fight and I stomped out after getting totally fed up with his crap. Not to say my threshold can't be pretty low sometimes, but when a girl is PMSing, of course she's probably going to be a little more testy - can I get an "amen?"

Anywhoo, so my Friday night was kind of blown but my friends were determined not to let me grump through the entire weekend. Thankfully, sleeping in Saturday morning was a definite mood-booster, then Saturday afternoon (for a long overdue brunch) I met up at Mecca with one of my gorgeous and sassy bffs. Over cheap mimosas and hashbrowns we vented our frustrations for a few hours, then I took her home so she could get ready to see her beloved Yankees play at Safeco. My "gay boyfriend" and I had made plans to hang out on Saturday afternoon, but I had some difficulty getting ahold of him so I just set to cleaning my apartment again. Annnnnnd once again stalled at the kitchen. So, I headed for the store to pick up a frozen pizza and some salad and prepared for a quiet evening alone.

Early Saturday evening my hard-partyin' homo woke up and called to confirm that we were still a go for a night of hanging out, so after first floating the option of a raincheck, I told him if he could handle the mess and a spicy chicken supreme pizza I was still up to host. Bless his little unicorn & rainbow filled-heart, he rode the bus all the way to/from West Seattle from the Central District to hang out with my pouting ass. He's a Cancer, like B, so it's always nice to get his perspective when I'm having problems communicating effectively with someone who is clearly more sensitive than I am. This time he had some strong opinions for me, but thank goodness I didn't have to spend my Saturday evening alone watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Either way, those crazy bitches make me want to shop, so when Sunday rolled around and brought with it some of the worst cramps EVER, it was clearly time for some girly time and good ol' retail therapy. Unfortunately, I don't work with a budget as large as theirs, so when I feel the need I don't head for Louis Vuitton or Chanel - I head for Marshall's. After failing to find that one perfect pair of shoes to cheer me up, I settled on some cute new panties (black, in honor of "that time of the month"). Honestly, I couldn't spend much time on my feet without a pretty good amount of pain radiating from my uteral area (side note: yes, sometimes I just make words up as I go for entertainment value), so only $20 into damaging my pocketbook I had to head home for a muscle relaxer. I gave myself a pedicure, enjoyed the sunset, scooped up the kitties and crawled into bed to call it an early night.

Was anything fixed? No. Not at all.
Did I enjoy a weekend similar to those I used to love so much in my single days? Yes. That I did.
Did I miss my boyfriend anyway? Duh. And I bet now he's wondering about those cute new panties.