Lick 37

Another girls' outing last weekend. This one decidedly lame. Five thirty-something-year-old women at my friend's parents' cottage. At practically any hour, you'd find us wearing pjs, drinking Bubble Gum vodka, watching the Food Network, and playing Pitch.

Heaven.

Fast forward thirty years, wrap us in sweater coats, throw in a cheesecake, and we're Golden.

Have you tried Bubble Gum vodka? It is every bit as tasty as it sounds, especially mixed with soda water and chased with nacho Combos.

One unfortunate side effect of Bubble Gum vodka: Drinking an excessive amount of this stuff will turn you into John Mayer. It should come with a warning label. I morphed into a rambling narcissist with a predilection for pot, the uninvited TMI confession, and soppy ballads.(The latter of which were croaked during the only time we ventured outside. To sing karaoke at a dive bar that provided $2 beers, but no bathroom doors.)

Digression #1: I really have to start carrying a microphone in my purse for impromptu sing-alongs. Reunited? It's understood. Love Will Keep Us Together? One step ahead of you, Captain. Benny and the Jets? B-b-b-betcha sweet ass I have a microphone on me.

Digression #2: If you don't like 30 Rock, we can't be friends.

That's all I got. It's the weekend, suckas. Make it count.