Saturday, April 05, 2003
at 9:54 AMWhiskers On Kittens
I smell like barbecued pork ribs. I hope someone, somewhere, markets such a scent. The Father is barbecuing for The Minibitch's birthday bash this afternoon. She invited some of her little friends and their mothers, thus explaining why I awoke at 7:30 to clean the refrigerator.
Elliott's post reminded me of my reservations about the prom group I got weaseled into going with. I just wanted to show up, float around like the social butterfly that I am, go out to eat, and then go back to bed. Apparently, no one else thinks this is a fun idea. Donna and Lindsay want to go bowling afterward, which I probably would not mind, if I had ever been bowling before. I know whatever we end up doing, I'll be in the background attempting to at least look like I'm having fun and failing miserably at it. I know I'm a big pile of "no-fun".
Donna wants to eat at a pizza joint (to rebel against her mother's wishes), but thankfully April shares my opinion that, if we're going to be suckered into doing this prom nonsense, we ought to eat at a real restaurant. Donna's mother suggested Korean, which sounded fine to me (except the distant location), but we probably won't end up going there because Donna's mother suggested it. I suppose I'll ask The Father about nice Houston restaurants; he knows of these things, as he is a mild businessman who takes clients out to lunch every other day.
