Can't Trust That Day

Sometimes, you have to name your blog post after an obscure second line of an oldie's lyric.

Whatevs.

So, it's Monday  I didn't watch the Oscars  and I really couldn't care less who won or what they wore. I spent the weekend in faded glory and GEORGE by Walmart, along with baby drool, snot and some cookie crumbs.

Like I said, living the dream.

I went out Friday night, to a fish fry, with Erin. We took the girls and ate until we thought we might explode and then we came back to my house and watched LOTR until almost midnight. But for real, it was awesome. The fish fry we went to was hosted by a local baptist church, which seems incongruous, but is in fact the best fish fry I've ever been to thanks to two facts.
1: It's all you can eat for under 10.00 for an adult.
2: They serve the best food I've ever had at a fish fry. The 4 different choices of fish are well cooked and not greasy, and the sides go for miles, mac and cheese, green beans, french fries, hush puppies, fried shrimp, onion rings, spaghetti...seriously and there is dessert and iced tea/lemonade/water included in the price.

Apart from that I'm just tired, even though I slept from 10 last night until 8 this morning, go figure. It's a much guarded fact of adulthood that you spend 98% of your life after 21 at least sort of tired. I think that other 2% is the few days when you might actually sleep well due do a cold medication induced semi-coma. I think we hide it from the teenagers so they won't decide to sterilize themselves to avoid turning into one of the shuffling, moaning zombies that seem to make up a great deal of the 28-40 crowd.