Friday

TGIF. No really, I mean it. Sort of. Actually it's hard to be annoyed at the weekend when it's been approaching 70 in Atlanta all week. In February, since that's totally normal. Whatever, I will take it! And wear flip flops to celebrate that!

Last Saturday Coach and I went to see the ventriloquist Jeff Dunham at Philips Arena. It was so funny and we had fantastic seats just 4 rows from the stage- thanks Dad! I may or may not have eaten french fries for my dinner at the concession stand. Just saying.

Saturday night was a late one and we went to early Mass on Sunday. So of course we rounded that out with our weekly pilgrimage to The Waffle House. I irritated the heck out of them that morning because I ordered an egg white omelet loaded with veggies and dry wheat toast. Sacrilegious in The Waffle House but hey, had to negate those fries from the night before.

Yesterday was the best Groundhog Day. Like ever. I wish it would repeat itself a la Ned Ryerson. I went to Drybar Atlanta (a gift from FitGirl) in the morning and had a blowout and a massage. I got the "Manhattan" and my hair was (and still is) stick straight, sleek and shiny. I adore Drybar. Please make a note and buy me 84,000 gift certificates for my birthday in March. I want to go every week, so work that out accordingly. We watched "He's Just Not That Into You" during our blowouts, I had forgotten how hilarious that movie is, and completely true!

Afterwards we went to Phipps Plaza and I bought a watch (Christmas gift from Jack and Diane, natch) and fondled all of the bags and flip flops at Tory Burch. Lunch at Bistro Niko completed my day as pretending to be a Buckhead Betty. Spoiled Rotten.

This guy. Basketball regular season ended and we are in the throws (no pun intended) of a single elimination tourney. Said tourney is the reason I will be here in Atlanta this weekend instead of in Charlotte with my girlfriends. Soon though!

Alas, the alarm went off this morning and it wasn't Groundhog Day. It was back to reality. Scrubbing toilets, running {jogging} 3 miles on the treadmill and a hella trip to Publix.

Suburban Brunette Barbie. That's my reality.