Since I had the evening to myself I decided to go to a movie. And knowing I was going to a chick flick -- "The Last Song" -- I thought I'd better run to the theatre's restroom to grab some toilet paper in case of crying. There's nothing worse than being caught with nothing but your sleeve to stop the tears from ruining good mascara. But there's nothing better than sitting in the dark, alone, bawling at a sad story with a wad of tissue to honk your nose into. Ladies, am I right?
But I didn't cry.
Maybe it wasn't really that kind of movie. Or maybe I'm just cold-hearted?
Anyway, afterward I decided to treat myself to a hamburger at Sonic. Even alone, I am a cheap date. If it's not on the $1 value menu I won't get it. EXCEPT!!! I did order onion rings, because if there's anything I learned from Miley Cyrus it's that life's too short.
So there I was, munching my food in the car when I discovered I needed more napkins.
That's when I remembered my unused tangle of toilet paper crammed in my purse.
I had the hamburger in one hand and grabbed the wad of tissue in the other as the Sonic server passed me with a double take.
"Oh, Ma'am? Can I get you anything?" Looking pointedly at my right hand she asked, "Like . . . more napkins?"
Spitting a pickle into the paper I chirped, "No thanks. I'm fine!"
I'm a woman with the night off and a ball of TP as big as your head. I'm doing great!
I'm on a date with myself. And I am one classy lady.