Fatter than Hell

Happy Friday, and happy early Saturday for me, the first Saturday in six weeks I haven't had to work. Now that Sarah's birthday is over I'm loaded up on really great pizza from the smallest bar I've ever been in, a zombie cake, 43 beers, and I'm stupidly eating some sort of Cuban cheese pastry. It's like a dry blintz and I can feel myself growing fatter with each chew. There's also a fruit tray by the copier but by the time I got into work the few remaining chunks of pineapple were shriveled things, sponges washed up on a beach.

Sarah and I considered going to see a live-action Reservoir Dogs tonight, and are still considering going, I guess, but I can't make up my mind. What do you think? There's a pretty big potential for it to suck, AND I know I would enjoy sitting around the apartment watching Netflix with Sarah and generally chilling the fuck out. I suppose we should take the risk, but with her working the next morning and both of us doing all kinds of junk this weekend, the pressure is ON for proper use of a Friday night.