Forgo Fargo? I tried...

For as much as I miss the downtime and relaxation when it's absent from my life, this busy weekend was really fun.

On Friday night, Bridget came over for some long-awaited home beauty, which included a haircut for her and some fake "tanning" for both of us. First we had to get a good buzz going and make trips to Dairy Queen AND Burger King, which we proceeded to eat while sitting on my crappy Walmart lawn chairs on the driveway. We were white trash in the worst way and loving every minute of it as we chowed on our royal treats.

I am extremely excited to announce that my "tan" worked out far better this time than my first rub on color experience this summer did. It still looks fake, of course (unavoidable), but it's a much more even and less streaky kind of fake.

Also, Bridget's haircut worked out much better than the first attempt. Hopefully she agrees, considering I threw caution to the wind and cut off more than one eighth of an inch this time. I think I missed my calling in life. Sigh...

I spent the earlier part of Saturday trying to weasel my way out of the impending trip to Fargo. I know you're wondering why I would ever want to miss it. I'll tell you. There was just something unappealing about spending four hours in a car for less than 24 hours in Fargo for a surprise birthday party being thrown for someone I'd never even met and then spending four more hungover hours in the car this morning. I couldn't stop thinking about how many scrapbook pages I'd be able to complete without distractions if I stayed home.

I did the unselfish thing for once and embarked on the journey with these two Irish clowns and a trunk full of beer and lawn chairs.

I have to admit, I had far more fun than I expected to at the party. I actually knew a good chunk of the attendees and the birthday boy lived up to everything I'd heard about him. He has three adorable daughters and you know I'm a sucker for kids. I befriended the eldest (7 years old), who introduced me to her dog, told me exactly what time and channel Full House is on each night, and more than entertained me with her story about puking in the gym in first grade.

The night progressed to keg stands, dirty jokes, and the boys flaunting their karaoke/dancing skills. Really the only downer (I just learned that's the name of a town...ha!) was the guest of honor's wife. What a BITCH. I thought she was cute but was told otherwise by the boys present, so what an UGLY BITCH. All she did was piss and moan and glare at everyone. She made absolutely no effort to be friendly. A power struggled ensued and it became obvious to us that we weren't welcome beyond 11pm. For the love of God woman, did you not see how excited your husband was to be with his childhood friends that he hasn't spent time with in years?! They'd even sent the kids home with the grandparents. She won, we left, and the birthday boy was pissed. I typically don't advocate this, but boy do I ever hope he slapped her around.

Not willing to let a night of fun and games end at 1am, we joined the post-bar crowd for breakfast at a truck stop, where Landis proceeded to pick it with a middle-aged balding man for not treating his waitress like she deserved to be treated. That led to a long-winded lecture from said waitress about being a man (she looked like she probably knew a thing or two about that) and the good tips the old guy leaves. Yoses Maria, was I happy to see the night end without bloodshed.

Despite the fun of this weekend, I look forward to spending next Saturday and Sunday in a state of quiet bliss. At least at home I don't have to sleep (meaning toss and turn all night) in the same room as the snoring Chucker.