Usually when I go force myself to endure thirty minutes of tedious brain-numbing exercise, I come home with at least a paragraph or two waiting to be hammered out. Not so tonight, Internet. I'm blaming it on my day, which was miserable, not because the kids were so dreadfully horrible but because for some reason today I woke up a little less equipped to deal with the regular amount of horrible. I am so tired of being whined at. So very tired.
I didn't come home with any novel or blog fodder, but I did think of how to acquire some: ask you for help. So. It appears I've come to a point in my plot-less, pointless, terribly written YA novel where I have to write a party scene and the humiliating thing is that I have no experience on which to draw. I have no idea what happens at high school parties in someone's parents' basement. I know what happens when a bunch of girls basketball teammates have to sleep in a classroom on a Friday night, I know what happens when you're getting ready to go dancing at midnight, I know what happens when you've graduated but you're home on Christmas break and you break your own rule about getting in cars with strange people and the carabinieri stop you on the way down hill from the Paradiso because you have so many kids packed in the car but then you find out they think your driver was drinking OMG (SORRY MOM! EVERYTHING TURNED OUT OKAY!) but parties? Not so much.
This is where you come in. Your job is to leave me some story about after hours high school socializing. I will accept any kind, any type, any scenario. I NEED IDEAS. Also: entertainment. My children are slowly sucking away my will to live and YOU have the opportunity to make me laugh. I NEED TO LAUGH, INTERNET.
P.S. If you're really missing the mommyblog stuff, my curse against two-year molars is up at Parenting on Thursday.