Beer, backrubs and bellyaching.

I have been very busy lately. This is not an excuse for not paying more attention to my poor little blog, it is simply a reason. And the reason is a pretty good excuse, I think. Busy doing what, you ask? Well, for starters, I HAD to go on not one, but TWO “girls-only retreats” IN ONE WEEK. Do you have any idea how tiring that much relaxation and rejuvenation really is?

The first was a whirlwindy trip to the Texas-Ohio State bowl game with my friend Teffy for her 40th birthday. This was a teensy bit disturbing, because I generally don’t cheer for either of those teams, AND I was also with Teffy on her 21st birthday, so at some point during the revelry we realized we’d known each other for twenty years, and then we realized that we couldn’t possibly be 25 anymore if we’d known each other for twenty years, because we didn’t know each other when we were five, for chrissakes, so then we had to get even MORE beer than we had before to help it all sink in, and I’m not so sure if that was such a great idea because it made me very tired and I had to take just the little itty-bittiest nap in the third quarter of the Fiesta Bowl. And, I think that THAT IS OKAY, because I ask you, why even go on a girls-only retreat if you cannot take little naps whenever you want in the name of rejuvenation? Besides, according to ESPN highlights, the third quarter was pretty uneventful. And I totally woke up for last call, I mean the fourth quarter, when everything exciting happened, and Texas won, which was who I ended up cheering for since Teffy made me wear all her burnt orange clothes and yell “Texas Texas YeeHaw” a lot, which, truth-be-told, I sort of enjoyed. I’ve been saying about other things ever since, like, “Lasagna Lasagna YeeHaw” and “Bedtime Bedtime YeeHaw.” I really think if that Obama character had developed a cheer like that for the presidential race, he actually might have had a chance to win it.

The second two-day estrogen-fest was a luxe mountain getaway for work. Well, not really for work, but it makes you feel a tiny bit sorrier for me, right? Like, if I said I was staying at an incredibly fabulous resort with several hours of back-to-back spa treatments, unlimited champagne, amazing food and the most comfortable bed on the planet for FUN, you’d probably be all like, “Yeesh, spoiled beyotch,” but when I say, “BUT IT WAS FOR WORK SO IT TOTALLY SUCKED,” then you would be all “Oh, I’m sorry for judging.” But it totally didn’t suck, it was totally awesome. And even though it was AT my work, my work is totally awesome, and even though my boss was there, my boss is, well, the kind of person who invites people for totally awesome weekends and then says, “Oh, bring a friend who I don’t even know and they can have a totally awesome weekend, too.” And then gives you a present. So, I brought my neighbor Spanxy, who not only had a great time, but also lent me her bitchin’ crocodile Danskos to wear to the fancy wine cellar for the awesome dinner, so I hereby love her forever. And her shoes.

When I returned to civilization, I very carefully removed my liver and hung it up to dry for a couple of days. Being liverless, and in love with Spanxy’s shoes, I hiked up my britches for a trip to the mall to purchase my own. If you know me you are aware that shopping for me generally takes a whole lot of pre-mall alcohol prepwork, but I decided to try it sober just to challenge myself. Bad idea, because even though Katie Couric assures me the economy is very very very bad, for some reason every person in a eighty mile radius was also at the mall, and each one of them walking incredibly slowly Right. In. Front. Of. Me. With big bags of recently purchased crap. I purposely went during an NFL playoff game, figuring that would knock down bored mall traffic a bit, but guess what? It doesn’t. It just means that there’s a big TV in the middle of the mall with 482 morose looking husbands watching it. Sidebar: If you were thinking about opening a sports bar with no bar, I wouldn’t do it unless you want very unhappy customers.

More importantly – WHY did these men even GO to the mall? I’m thinking it is a control issue, but I can’t figure out if it is Wayne trying to control what Margie spends, or Margie needing to keep an eye on Wayne so he doesn’t WATCH FOOTBALL AT HOME, because, that, apparently, would be wrong.

It all worked out, I have new shoes and got home before the end of the game. I know you were worried about that part probably. And, although I hate the mall, I am all about comfy shoes.