I hate my crybaby friends. They winge and moan at the hint of the slightest amount of things not going their way. Take my friend that I'll call Caryn. One mention from the weatherman that there will be scattered storms over the holiday weekend, and she flips. Sometimes I just want to slap that girl flat across the face. Although with my perpetual pose of beer-in-one-hand-smoke-in-the-other all weekend, I'm not sure how I would do that.

Oh yeah, I have to clean my house too.

God I love three-day weekends.