Page 11 of How to Deal

“Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Great!” She’s displaying entirely too much enthusiasm. It’s obvious she’s already drunk, and it’sonlyThursday night.

Personally, I make it a rule of mine only to drink on Fridays and Saturdays. It makes me feel like less of an alcoholic. Which I’m not. I hardly ever drink these days, but lately, like maybe the last few weeks, Casey is leading me that way with these jitters and preparing for her wedding.

In an attempt to look hot—since the Madsen brothers are there—I put on the sexiest black dress I have and borrow some three-inch heels from my neighbor Jade. She’s a stripper and has just about everything you can imagine to give yourself that “I’m not slutty, but I want to appear slutty” look.

Just don’t ask her what’s behind door number three in her apartment. I’m not kidding. It will scare the ever-loving shit out of you. If anyone in our apartment is ever murdered, I’m pointing the finger at her first.

As I prepare to leave, grabbing my keys and purse, Oliver looks a little sad that I’m not staying in bed with him. He always gives me the guilt trip. And if you’ve never gotten a guilt trip from a puppy, it’s theworstthing ever.

“I’ll be back soon.” I point my finger in his face. He perks up, ears flopping around and sniffs it. “Don’t eat any furniture or my heels!”

He tips his head at me as if my words mean nothing to him. I half expect him to say, “But I’m so cute, Mommy.”

“You are cute, but so are the Madsen brothers.”

There I go again talking to my dog. Yet another reason why going out on a Thursday is exactly what I need in my life. Or lack of a life.

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