I'm an asshole. And THIS is my asshole.

Friday night. The night of nights for Miss Eileen (that's me).
harry.potter's ass and cat.man were over. We had congregated for the creation of dips in preparation for Saturday night's rendezvous. I made beer dip, which means I had to buy a huge can of Bud Light, obviously. So I used about a cup and then drank the rest.

Kept it classy.
Then, of course, harry.potter's ass made some delicious margs.

I made some stir fry for myself and harry, and instead of putting teriyaki on it, I used A1, something furniture.man brought to my attention as a delectable combo with chicken and vegetables.

I spent the entire night tromping about in my beloved, yet scuffed, wedges. I couldn't remove them for fear of whatever it is I was afraid of.
And although I'm not sure at what point I said the line that titles this post, but I DID yell it and I DID point directly at my bottom dollar for the second part of the statement. Don't act like you're not impressed.