I was supposed to go to the bar tonight.

[apocalypsos]

Instead I stayed home and watched The Sound Of Music and felt bad for myself. Yay for family dinners?

I don't know ... my family means well, they do. But then there's hearing about how great my cousin's wedding that I couldn't go to because it was in Florida was, or listening to my other cousin's fiancee and his mom talking about weddings plans while I'm pretty much the only one there without an SO, or having my cousin suggest if my broke ass wants to find a job I should move, or listening to more than one relative suggest that if I don't get a job yesterday I'm going to end up ... I don't know, Russell Crowe's character at the beginning of Cinderella Man, just not as beefy?

I just know that right now, I don't want to get drunk in a bar, I want to get drunk in my apartment. Except I haven't done and won't, 'cause then I start to lean dangerously into Bridget Jones territory and I can safely assure you that Colin Firth is not proposing to me at the end of this debacle.

It's really depressing when the bright spot of my night is that I still have fudgsicles. They make everything better, at least for the five minutes it takes to eat one.