She's a nice lady!

All this World Cup brouhaha has made me forget one thing: come Friday afternoon, I must entertain 9 boys... until Monday.
Like I said, I love having my guy friends, they're a blast... we just run into problems when they want me to show them the Vegas experience. That damn Hangover movie doesn't make this shit any easier. I'm not going to help them find a tiger, and I refuse to partake in card-counting (do I know how to do it? Yeah, my high school calculus teacher taught all of us how to do this... just for the hell of it, don't think he was some sort of thug. He was a sweet, adorably shy Catholic-school boy who would blush each time a girl would ask him a question... awww, I feel all warm and fuzzy thinking about him).
I have a huge connection at "The World's Largest Strip Club," which I've never taken advantage of because... why the fuck do I want to go to a strip club? But, for these boys, it appears I'm going to have to do it. Nine 22 year-olds... and me... they better not get any ideas.

They also want to go club hopping... which... I'm just too tired and old for that.
I mean, been there, done that. I hate the stupid hip-hop that appears to be invading the club scene... what the hell happened to techno and all that good stuff with a deep baseline? Oh, yeah, that's right, people can't dance for shit so they opt for the head-bobbing, gangsta thing to California Love (don't get me wrong, I LOVE that song, but how the fuck am I expected to dance to it without a drink in my hand? I can't! One needs a drink in one's hand and the other hand free to point to the sky and sway from side to side. And honestly, I'm sick and tired of the one clumsy bitch who always spills her drink on me because she can't even do THAT properly). But, the kiddies want me to party with them... and I do feel a little honored that they'd want to spend some time with me.

Now I have to clean the house, and have my car ready... to welcome the boys.
Barf.

Worst part? One of the boys is MGH's brother.
:(
That's the best way I can describe it.
I tell you, just when I'm cool with the process of moving on (I'm finally talking to dudes without feeling bummed. I mean, a word from Darcy is once again making me smile like a dumbass... like back in the good ol' days when I'd bump into him and I'd just stand and stare without saying much, only smiling until my cheeks hurt each time. Of course, he doesn't know he makes me smile like a moron, I keep that shit to myself), something comes along and stirs shit up.

The moment his name is dropped, I come back home (unless it's accidental, of course, since he does share his name with a certain, popular plumber).
This also applies if I hear one of them quote that fucking Hangover movie.