Friday Night of Memorial Day Weekend

As I sit here by myself being so lame on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, I have come to the realization, through my current status of holding a real nine-to-five job, that the real word sucks.

I know I am only 23 years old, still in my prime, but after working all week I turned down offers to go out opting to instead stay in and get some rest because I am so tired and so not used to getting up anytime before noon. I know I'll go out tomorrow night but I still feel ridiculous for staying in on a weekend that had before now been like Christmas to me.

Memorial day weekend in prior years had always brought with it plans of debauchery.

It was a weekend that my friends and I would look forward to for months on end. It was a weekend where we would actively plan on engaging in mindless drunken activities. Activities such as talking to other intoxicated people about the meaning of life, inviting guys back to the house just to get back and realize there was no more alcohol and the guys weren't that cool when they weren't buying you a drink.

It was a weekend where we would convince ourselves, in our state of drunken stupor, that things like: riding a skateboard while intoxicated, operating any motorized machine after consuming alcoholic beverages, or talking to a guy while having to hold yourself up on the bar counter because if you attempted to stand up straight you would fall, were brilliant.

But of course the wonderful ideas would result in bruises and cuts that didn't hurt until the next morning when the numbness of the alcohol had worn off.

After tending to the injuries, drinking gallons of water and nursing yourself back to life you would remember talking to a cute guy, forgetting it was after five red-headed sluts and a few too many vodka/crans, and would proceed to check his myspace only to come to the sobering realization that he's missing a couple teeth, shaves his head because he is balding, is currently unemployed, lists his favorite interests as getting drunk and going off-roading, has Joe Dirt and Girls Gone Wild: College Babes under his favorite movies section and that his name is actually Jeb after you had been calling him Jeff the entire time.
Note to self: operation find husband or any decent man for that matter while drunk = bad idea.

My friends and I would go to the beach, the river or wherever they had alcohol and drink like it was our job. We would then follow our excessive drinking with late night mexican food trips and at times the numerous shots that seemed so fun at the time would result in someone waking up the next morning, hungover, wondering what the hell happened and why aren't they wearing any pants.

And yet although I didn't go out I still managed to find a way to spend over a hundred dollars in a single sitting. The only difference is that the money I spent tonight wasn't at a bar and won't make me feel like my head will explode tomorrow morning.

After dinner with the family I went to "The Target" as my baby brother Michael says it and took Michael with me. He means everything to me and I spoil the shit out of him.
After running into about five people I knew from high school, all of who proclaimed "I didn't know you had kids," Michael and I were off to shop.

I went to Target to pick up a few new shirts for work and I ended up getting myself three while Michael ending up leaving the store with three new shirts of his own, a slip-n-slide and a race car that moves forward and in reverse when you push buttons. How the kid manages to get everything he wants, sometimes without even asking, is beside me.