Sweet Christ on a Cracker, I am glad it is Friday. For the moment I am completely ignoring the fact that I have a stack of world literature essays to grade this weekend and I am simply enjoying the relaxation.
My friend’s little chihuahua, Diego, is spending the weekend with me, which makes for plenty of dog wrestling, dog frolicking, and dog napping in my future. Aren’t they adorable together?
That is, when they’re not chasing each other around the apartment full tilt like … like … like … A PACK OF WILD DOGS.
My other plans for the weekend involve traveling out to the country for a little local music and art festival thingy tomorrow and then holing up in bed with the dogs and Infinite Jest. I know, I am a rock star. It’s just that now that I have finally replaced my lost (loaned out?) copy of that book I am ready to make a real go of it. So far it’s so completely captivating that I barely want to put it down to go to sleep. I hate it when I suddenly remember in the midst of reading such a glorious book that the author effing offed himself. Jeesh.
In other news, I am experiencing the first Friday night in ages without the beautiful indulgence of The Notorious M.A.N.H.A.T.T.A.N. Usually I like to mix up a Manhattan or two when I get home on Friday evenings to ease myself into the weekend, but this weekend I am teetotaling it. Sigh. I just figured that after the sheer excesses of last Friday night, which included but were not limited to a faculty reception with an open bar and a subsequent few hours “trapped” in a local hostelry due to tornado warnings during which time I and my colleagues were “forced” to drink glass after glass of expensive Oregon Pinot Grigio, that I have pretty much consumed all of my alcohol calories for the entire month. And much like Lethal Weapon‘s Sgt. Murtaugh, I am TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT.
How about you? What are your plans for the weekend? And would you consider drinking a whiskey or two for me?