Comedians, Panera, Awful Movies, Bad Dreams = Interesting Weekend

You know when you vow to have a low-key weekend, it always turns out to be the exact opposite?

Yeah, that’s basically what happened to me this weekend.

Friday night I ended up going to a comedy club with The Hoff to see Harland Williams. You may recognize him from such comedic greatness as Half Baked, There’s Something About Mary, and Dumb and Dumber. He’s probably the most random guy ever, and I’m pretty sure he was under the influence of a few substances, but he was hysterical nonetheless.

Anyway, I told The Hoff that I’d be over to his place around 8:15-8:30 so we could grab dinner before the show. In typical Miss Procras. fashion, I didn’t show up until 9:30, meaning there was no time for dinner before the show.

The Hoff was not pleased. He told me he dislikes my habitual tendency to be late even more than Yankees fans...he's from Boston. Major burn.

I politely reminded him that if he’s going to date me, tardiness is part of the package. I don't think that made things any better.

Saturday, after working my last shift ever at the mall (halle-freakin-lujah!), GlitzGal arrived for a night of debauchery. (I know in my last post I said I wasn’t drinking for 7-14 days, but this was a momentous occasion, so I decided to forego my meds for the night.)

Highlights of her visit:
-Had beer thrown on us by a girl who got miffed our guy friend stopped dancing with her to shake it with us. (Ladies, why must we always place blame on the other girl instead of the guy?!) -Yelled at a really drunk dude who smacked GlitzGal in the head with his beer bottle and then proceeded to knock my drink out of my hands. (Side note: Asshole didn't even offer to buy me a new one.)
-Woke up still drunk and decided a trip to Panera was a brilliant idea.
-Took one bite of my sandwich at Panera and had to sprint to the bathroom to vom. (FYI: The one-stall bathroom in Panera was occupied, so I had to take the escalator to the bottom level for the nearest toilet, hand over mouth, in attempt to suppress my gag reflexes. That's not the first time alcohol consumption has forced me to puke in that bathroom. I'm classy, I know.)
-Passed out in the booth with GlitzGal and The Hoff. The toddlers at the tables next to us now have something to aspire to.

The rest of Sunday was spent detoxing and lounging around with The Hoff. After much consideration, we decided to rent a light-hearted, comedy: The Heartbreak Kid, instead of a critically-acclaimed, suspenseful drama: Michael Clayton.

…The alcohol must have killed a good portion of our brain cells this weekend.

In case any of you are tempted to watch that piece of crap, let me forewarn you: It is not funny or entertaining. AT ALL. I want two hours of my life back.

To top off the weekend, I had a dream last night (or I guess nightmare would be the more accurate term) that my managers went to my parents’ house and started telling them what an awful employee I am and how I never get anything done on time. My parents then attempted to bribe them so I wouldn’t get fired.

Dream analysis: I’m getting fired because of my procrastinating nature but at least the 'rents have my back.

Or maybe I'm overlooking some sort of deeper, symbolic meaning, like I'm really getting a promotion because my managers feel I'm not being challenged a la Peter in Office Space and my parents want to buy me new presents to celebrate.