Tarter is a Non-starter

My trip to McDonald's has had a domino effect. No asian chicken salad meant I didn't get the healthy start to my evening. I was hoping to have a carb-councious meal and then hit the gym downstairs. The extent of my laziness is beyond belief at the moment. Did I mention the gym is in the building? I had a 400 calorie filet o'fish and haven't left my couch for hours. I mean four hours. I have a to-do list before I get on my plane to Paris tomorrow night.

I've limited myself to those items that can be accomplished without leaving my sofa. Change outgoing voicemail to say I'll be out of the country until November 28th- check. File auto-reply's on email accounts with activation time- I'll get to it. Pay bills online. I'll be back next week. OK, so far the only thing I've done is record an outgoing message for all the men who won't be wondering where I am. Everyone else knows I'll be in Paris with two men who have no romantic potential. The whole trip is a fluke really.

These two acquaintances, soon-to-be best guy friends, are on a journalism board with me. One is a business writer for the New York Times, ooohhh, fancy. And the other, a D.C.-based business reporter for The Dallas Morning News, holla. Then there's me. The high maintenance diva whose chosen medium is TV and who has never balanced a checkbook. When I found out they were going to Paris for Thanksigiving, I threatened to crash their boys' trip and they simply shrugged. Then they forwarded me their itineraries and extended a formal invitation. I guilted my mom into letting me skip the only American holiday we actually observe. "I always wanted to go to Paris on my honeymoon but who knows when that will be," I said.
"Oh, honey," my mom replied, sadly stepping right into my trap. "Go, have fun."

I'm not one to always do what my parents say but this time I think I'll make an exception. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!