Last night a few girlfriends and I headed out to Soma Ultralounge for a night of drunken debauchery. It was a good time, except that we were there relatively early (from around 9-11) and they hadn't started to play decent dance music yet, so I didn't get my groove on nearly as much as I wanted to. Bah. I haven't had a night out at the bars with the girls in ... jeez ... a long time. I'm such an old married woman.
Today Ken is in Indy getting his geek on with a friend of his--there's some sort of gaming tournament over there--and so I'm home alone. First, I'm going to do some grocery shopping, and then I'm going to watch The Devil Wears Prada and Walk the Line while I eat tomato soup and grilled cheese. I might even bake a cake. I won't, however, do any laundry. I'll do that while watching the Bears and Colts win their respective football games tomorrow.
9 comments:
So, what you're saying is that you're not planning of doing any laundry, then? 'Cause N.O. and N.E. are going to mop up, I'm afraid...
Tell you what. You do your laundry for Indy and Chi-town, and I'll do my laundry for the Big Easy and Chessmaster Belichik, and we'll see whose detergent has better juju. Deal?
We indeed have a deal. Your boys are goin' down. They don't stand a chance against All detergent, Rex Grossman, and my boy Peyton Manning.
We'll see. I think we're free and clear--Tide Free, that is, and with Sean Peyton on the fast track to success and Rex falling apart for the last half of the season, I think that one's no problem.
And Indy? Well, let's just say that I'll be happy either way--seriously, Peyton deserves a shot at it--but they've got rickety nerves around my boy Brady.
Oh, and I've got the secret weapon: The Downy Ball!
My Bounce dryer sheets trump your Downy Ball, my friend. Prepare to lose.
Ah, I have no name dryer sheets! I'll give on the Bears, who are trouncing the Saints as we speak!
But I've got a black cat sleping on super-heated flannel sheets, and that voodoo's all reserved for the Patriots, baby!
No call. I've got two cats sleeping on the couch, one sleeping on the video chair, and one cooking herself in front of the space heater. Two of them happen to be black, which I think bodes well for a Dungy victory.
Out catted and out statted! My empire crumbles!
GO BEARS!
I'm tired of everybody ripping little Rexy-poo a new one. He's just a baby!
So, SOMA huh? I've never managed to get fancy enough to go there, fancy lady! So did you like it?
Yeah, Soma was cool. The decor was hip, but not painfully so, and the dance floor had a few disco balls, so that pleased me. The drinks were expensive enough to discourage the college-age crowd from going there but not so expensive that I felt out of place. There were about 50% jeans and 50% dressier cloths. I'd go again.
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