Oh, It's Going To Be Handled. And By "It" I Mean Sweatpants And Popcorn. And Ice Cream.

Tonight I have a huge plan to stay in a cloud of blankets and pillows and watch however many episodes of Scandal it takes for my brain to totally go off the rails and believe I could be the next Olivia Pope. Considering I'm only in the middle of season 2, I have many potential hours of self-transformation ahead of me.  Last week I bought the most incredible grey wool coat that looks like it belongs at the White House, so I'm like... 40% of the way there already. One bottle of red wine, a giant bowl of popcorn and some silky PJ bottoms and I think that pretty much does it!

I know this is one of the most typical white girl Friday nights in existence, but A) I had my very first EVER battle with stomach bug/food poisoning that overtook my soul on Tuesday night. B) All JD could talk about during said bout of illness was how badly his back hurt, needed rubbed, and I should "just drink Vernor's!" and C) I watched 12 Years A Slave last night and I still haven't fully recovered from any of these things, so give me a fucking break, ok, man? I'm not a gladiator just yet.