There's not time like free time
It's very rare when I have a Friday night that's free and open.
Normally I'm at the part-time ushering ungrateful cheap bastards to their tables so they can stuff themselves then complain a little bit more about how the booths are too small for them to fit their fat asses in.
But not tonight. Oh no. Tonight in a giant stroke of good fortune one of my incredibly wonderful coworkers decided she wanted more hours. So we traded shifts. Her Sunday evening (which is very rarely that busy) for my Friday night. God bless her.
Because this weekend is Street Rod weekend here in my corner of Pennsyltucky. We are over run with aging Baby Boomers who throw thousands of dollars into restoring and rebuilding classic cars. Like a plague of locusts they started arriving Thursday and won't leave until Sunday. The injection of dinero into the local economy is appreciated but the increase in traffic, increase in wait times at local restaurants and overall pain in the tukus they cause around here are not. At least by the locals.
My plans for this glorious night of Friday freedom? A much needed trip to the gym, some quality time at Wal-Mart and more time in the attic organizing and going through my summer clothes. How much more exciting can a Friday night get?!
The sad thing is, to this 30 year old, this is about as exciting as it gets.
Somewhere my inner 21 year old is hiding her head in shame and looking for someone to go to happy hour with her.
***UPDATE (not that any of you care)***
My inner 21 year old is in the bathroom getting herself ready.
A plan is in place for later this evening that includes (not necessarily in this order) beer, music and Former Room mate's hottie neighbor. Swoon.
Thank god it's dead around here or else I never would have checked his band's website. Which led me to send this email to Former Room mate:
Hey, do you have plans for tonight? Holis is playing at Guillifty's.
Let's go so I can drool all over your neighbor and pretend like I would
ever have a chance to go out with him.