A Punch in the Swomf

Because this is M's last completely free weekend until sometime in January, I have dubbed this weekend as her Swomf. That stands for Special Weekend Of Magical Fun. Believe it or not, I thought of that off the top of my head! (ok, just kidding, it took a 75 minute brainstorming session and an impromptu focus group.)

Here is what the Swomf entails: M gets to decide what we'll do the entire weekend, and I will pretend to like it. She wants to go see a cheap musical? OK, I'm down with that. She wants to go shopping? Um, sure, we just went last week, but OK. She wants to cuddle and talk about marriage? Awesome, I'd much rather do that than watch the White Sox game and drink a dozen beers. If I make it through this alive I'm officially retiring with my 'Best Boyfriend Ever' title intact. Next weekend: Lots of booze and whores. No, scratch that. Every weekend for the rest of the year: lots of booze and whores.

Last weekend was great, save for the four hour block of shopping in the middle. Otherwise, free hotel meant fancy expensive dinners two nights in a row. Plus, the hotel even had a basketball hoop. I won a 45 minute game of horse (barely).