"What do you like to do on Friday nights?"

This seems to be a popular question these days when meeting new people.  Strange.  I would be in favor of switching this to "Saturday nights," but no one consulted me before popularizing the trend.

So, in answer, I have to say I'm always quite tired on Friday nights.  So, naturally, that means I like to go home, walk my dog, and then run 10 miles.  I mean, I can still go to bed by 10 and excuse it since I exercised.  *This is how my brain works.

Occasionally, I buy tickets to random events and convince friends to join me.  That's been a growing trend.  I used to fall asleep while watching the Soup, as Sarah might remember.  It was a ritual.  And even while snoozing, I usually chuckled at the right times, I'm told.

But tonight, I was convinced I was going to run.  What a good habit to bring back.  Then, I got a wave of "ugh," and I just wanted to go home and watch a movie.  But in realizing that 'current plan' would involve reliving this week, I had the sudden urge to start crying.  And I'm not a crier. (I'm not even a Cryer, as in Jon's sister.)  And my week wasn't really worth crying over.  I actually found it pretty funny.  Maybe even downright hysterical.

Still.  I have this fear that I'm about to go to Blockbuster and start balling over some ridiculous movie case that portrays a woman seeking love.  She probably has a "considering my options" smirk on her face and a guy looking at the camera with crossed arms with a "what are you gonna do, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em" face.  Ugh.  I cannot be subjected to this drivel. 

Maybe I should go the other way and go into a screening of Titanic (a movie I hate) where crying is mandatory.  Hmm.

Or maybe I should go home and read a book instead.  Preferably not the one above-described movie was based on.

I'm going to fall asleep in ten minutes.