Friday, October 26, 2007

Living The Weekend Vicariously Through You.

When I'm conversing with my co-workers, connecting with friends or corresponding with relatives, why (Oh why!) do I continue to torture myself and ask this question:

"Sooooo, got any plans for the weekend?"

Here are just a few of the responses I've heard in the past month:

"Going to see [insert cool concert here]."

"We're heading out to Las Vegas for the weekend."

"Camping out at Lake [Insert Name Here]."

"Going to the Buckeyes game at Penn State."

"Having a bonfire, keg and cookout at [insert friend who didn't invite you]."

"Slutty Halloween Party with a harry buffalo!"

"Halloweekends at Cedar Point."

"Going to see [insert cool movie here]!"






I'm not sure if it's just me but, if you've got kids. Little kids. Baby-sized kids. Kids under two-years-old. Doesn't it seem that every single weekend, everyone that you know is doing something fantastic...except for you?

From paintballing, to jumping out of a plane, to shooting off machine guns, to jetting off to New York City to running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain - everyone has freaking plans.

And they're not just normal everyday Going-To-Applebee's plans. They're fucking phenomenal, awesome plans that rank up there with traveling across the United States on a motorcycle or hiking Mount Everest with a couple sherpas.

Yep. And everyone is invited to partake...except for you.

Then, after they go into detail of their fantabulous upcoming weekend, I'm then asked that one particular question that, pretty much, is the Mike Tyson knockout punch:

"Why, what are you doing?"

"Oh, not much," I respond. "I may try to get out, go to Giant Eagle and maybe mow the lawn a bit."


And guess whose phone isn't ringing anymore on the weekends? Why just last Friday, I laid my phone down on the kitchen counter when I got home from work. It sat there until I picked it up on Sunday. No calls. No text messages. No invitations. No nothing.


That said, it's not too easy getting around when you've got a couple really young young'uns on the ranch. And, by the lack of phone calls, I'm assuming that other people understand that too. Either that, or they hate my guts.

But come next Spring it will be easier to get out and about with the kids. Then come next summer, easier. Then this same time next year, even easier.

You get my point.

So while you're out there gallivanting around, clicking your heels together with all your so-called 'friends' and kick-ass 'plans', don't expect me to get all giddy like a school-girl after you tell me all the cool shit you're doing this upcoming weekend.

I'll roll my eyes. I may even let out a "Pffffft. That sounds like it sucks." Don't worry, I'm just jealous.

But, then I picture you in a couple of years with kids of your own.

And that's when I'll flash my devilish, greenish GRINCHy grin.

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