Well, I’ve had one hell of a Girls’ Night Out. It’s been a blast… We’ve had so much fun! Funny stories, good times, a few vodka tonics… Pedicures, pajamas and some running into cars…
Yep… Pajamas and “some running into cars”…
Because that’s what we call a good girls’ night out, bitch. Hellz yeaaaaah.(Dana – where are you?!?!)
Did you really get that? Yeah. Some literally running into some parked carz… Good timez. Hellz yeaaaaaah.
Nothing says girls’ night out like when you have to call your husband and say, “Honey, um…. I went to get some beer and took off the side of Laura’s car…”
UPDATE FROM THE VILLAGE IDIOT…
The above post is all true. The Mister is out of town, and Laura came over to hang out and spend the night (you know, to help keep the boogie man away… because she’d be oh so helpful if he did come…) I seriously was heading to the store last night after the kids went to bed, hopped in my car, starting backing out and heard “CAAAARRRRRUUUUNNNNNNCH.”
I hit her car. In my very own driveway. Now that’s a Girls’ Night.
My car (my NEW car):
The Mister is going to just loooove this.