Ok, peeps. What a week it has been.
So, last week, I was so drained from having to find my inner drill sergeant at work that I couldn't post, or even read my usual blog haunts. And by "couldn't", I mean there weren't two coherent thoughts to bang together in the ol' noggin.
Then, I had an awesome weekend, but I lost the little cord that attaches my camera to my computer. (And seriously, when you see the photos, you'll know why I couldn't post without them.)
So, here's how the weekend went down.
On Friday, Cliff went to visit his parents, and so I was left by my lonesome. So, what's a single gal to do?
Go to an '80s "murder mystery" birthday party, of course! (Duh!)
My name was to be "Randy Reporter", a creatively named...uhh...reporter.
Friday was occupied by a lengthy trip to Value Village, where I bought this sexy little ensemble.
One must attend these functions in style, you know. Penciled-in Brooke-Shields eyebrows and all. Nothing says "hotty" like a shoulder-padded polyester blouse in the perfect shade of "zombie skin."
***Editor's note: I think I need to frame this photo. It clearly will make the perfect focal point of a room if I ever go through a "Designing Women/Working Girl" decorating phase.
I took my role seriously. Here I am interviewing Bailey Babble, the town gossip.
I think she's saying, "Your outfit is stunning. I must know the name of your personal shopper," and I'm like, "Who, me?" and batting my eyelashes.
And then, I gave this little gift-card holder to my girl, Leena, who was celebrating her birthday that night:
And then I went home, scrubbed off my eyebrows, crawled into bed spread-eagle right smack-dab in the middle and thanked my lucky stars that: a) once in a while, a weekend alone feels nice; and b) I don't have to wear my pants pulled up to my ribcage on a regular basis. Seriously. Ouch.