Updates

So, book club. I thought I'd branch out and choose a fun, short novel that I hadn't read before. I chose the book, He's Just Not That Into You. Not only wast NOT
fun, but it wasn't a novel, either. Essentially it was a self-help guide for clueless, dating females. Not only was I embarrassed for the this being my choice in the first place, but the advice was for the exceptionally dumb...and that's putting it at nicely as possible. Next time I'm just going to go with something I know: Vampires, Werewolves, and romance. Those three subjects never disappoint. Consider yourselves warned, Bookclubbies.
And the dinner? Well, it was good. But, that's no thanks to me. I went to Sam's Club and got a couple manicotti dinners and dressed them up to 'look' like I made them. (You know, transferred them into a different dish and added cheese). I tried to prepare myself to gracefully take credit for the meal, as I feel like I was entitled, because at least I have enough sense to admit that there was no way it would have been edible had I attempted to make it myself. But then there were comments like: "this is really good", and "how do you make this?" So I totally caved and had to admit that I had no idea. But it's prettier if you add some mozzarella cheese to the top and stick it in the oven for an additional 15 minutes. Rats. I tell little lies all the time, (read: exaggerations and diversions), so you'd think I'd be better at it. But no. The guilt and the lack of quick thinking always screws me up.
What's worse? I invited a couple girls to come over early and just visit...but I so grossly underestimated how much time my faux meal would take that they had to help me prepare it before everyone showed up to agree with me that I chose the worst book ever. Ugh.
Other than that, it was a successful night. The food was good, (cause I didn't make it), we exchanged bad dating stories, (like when my date broke my nose and made me drive home alone with a concussion), and set up our next get together, which will be so much more relaxing, because I won't be in charge.

After all my girls left for the night, my man and kiddos came home. Thanks to Kyle for babysitting. Cole was hungry and wanted me to fix him some "Smorgs". Which, coincidentally, is asparagus. And we've told him the correct name a bazillion times, but he refuses to conform. In fact, I thought he was saying, "smores", and so after accepting that Cole wouldn't say "asparagus", I decided that I'd play along, saying, "Would you like me to make you some smores?" He just rolled his eyes and said, "They're SMORGES, mom. SMORE--GS, SMORE--GS." Whatever. Talking to that kid is like talking to a rock. There's no way to reason--is it because he's stubborn? I seriously can't figure it out. It's funny, but at the same time he drives me insane.
K. I know this post was random and unorderly, but I have to jet. I have to get Riley to school on time today, or suffer dire consequences. I'll tell you all more about it later, as I will find out tomorrow what the deal is. Let's just say I'm in hot water with Riley and Cole's school, and I'm ready to fight the system. Like I said, more details later.