Truth Hurts

There's a reason you usually have happy hours for people who are leaving a job, rather than starting one. It's because employers tend to frown on a new employee asking to work from home after only two days.

My cheeks are still tingling from the smack Robbie gave me last night, and he didn't slap me in the face. And Tony! Who'd have thought the guy had so many hands?! Come to think of it, maybe I'm the one who needs to be working from home.

True friends are the people who tell you what you don't want to hear, but need to face, and who wipe up your tears afterwards. And if they then get you falling-down drunk, tenderly minister to the resultant injuries, and cap the evening by dirty-dancing with you, well, what more could a girl ask for?

I was going to post a picture of what I did to my knee last night, but it's really gross. My toe is all bloody, too. That's nothing compared to how barked up my heart is, and oh, this morning, my head... But time, friends, sleep, Tylenol, coffee, extensive therapy, and Neosporin heal most wounds.

Hopefully Tony will show up to work Monday.