Now that I've captured your attention, here is a blow by blow of how I spent my exciting Friday night. I've placed it into chronological list fashion, in order to enhance the excitement. I've even added military time to give you a feeling of intrigue.

1830: Finished up at the carnival after watching Taters vomit up greasy, frothy french fries. She had taken a horrific ride on the Gravitron after I told her I didn't think it would suit her tummy. It took me a second to realize it was my kid throwing up - and stop laughing. I told her so!

1900: Dodged crazy drunk men and women on quads, and successfully made it home.

1930: Started editing more wedding photos with the help of Corona Light. She's a helpful gal.

2000: Editing and playing on Facebook.

2030: The editing program is open but so is my Facebook, Myspace, and Pandora.

2031: Caught a drunk guy in my front yard, trying to use my driveway as a short cut to the neighbor's beer. He was greeted by a stern warning and a garden hose. I apologized to Hubby for not allowing him to do some yelling but when you're good at something, it's hard to give up the power.

2033: Drunk guy is back, and hovering by the fenceline bushes. I grab the garden hose and cover him again, threatening to unleash a flurry of unfiltered stinky well water should he choose to cross the threshold of my homestead. He instantly puts his hands up and says he just wanted to apologize. Oops, my bad. I let drunk guy go and released my grip on the garden hose.

2035: Time for Corona Light's sister, Apricot Ale.

2100: Back to editing. And Facebook. But mainly editing.

2100 - 2300: Still editing and entertaining the beer sisters with Facebook.

2301: The drunk neighbors show up on ATV's with 50 of their closest friends. The bon fire is lit and the drunken country karaoke singing ensues.

2330: The singing is continuing and I feel as though Kenny Chesney is my livingroom, screaming at me about some stupid beach. I can feel his breath on my cheek - oh wait, maybe that was just the cat wanting out. The beer sisters made me have a little trouble confirming this fact.

0001 - 0200: The party is in full swing and some jackass is blaring a modified truck horn from his little Toyota. I don't know what is so exciting at this time of morning, but someone is whooping and hollering. I play Gladys Kravitz and peek out my front door, clucking my tongue in disapproval. Or, it could be the dry mouth the beer sisters were giving me. I continue on with my editing. And Facebook.

0230: I'm flippin' exhausted and someone has just turned up the stereo on the truck in the neighbor's yard. I stomp into the bedroom to wake Hubby up and ask if he could hear the music. He informs me he hadn't until I had so kindly woken him up.

0233: I look up neighbor's phone number and in my best friendly, 0230ish voice, ask him to have his party goers turn the music down. He calls me "Sweetie" several times, so I think he still loves me. Afterall, he's normally the word's best neighbor.

0300: I'm finally asleep and the faint sounds of Merle Haggard bounce around in my head. I occasionally hear a yell or two and that damn truck horn, but the beer sisters tell me to shut up and go back to sleep.

0830: Awake! Thanks Gunny. I know Noggin doesn't play on your TV but good lawd, son, Mommy needs her sleep!

How was your Friday night?