If all goes well ...

... meaning I don't bust my ass and break something else tonight, Josh and I will be traveling to the Biggest Little City in the World tomorrow.


I've got a surprise lined up for Josh --


so don't tell him. It's a surprise. (If he comes home with a nasty rash, though, it won't be my fault.)


I plan on using my crutches to their fullest potential in the hotel. I won't be able to join him at the nightclub, where I'm sure he'll be douchebagging it to his finest while I gamble at the penny slot machines with the meemaws and peepaws and their oxygen machines (win win).

Also, our hotel reservations include a "spa treatment," and it totally sucks that I can't get a massage with my stupid cast. I've opted for a facial instead to go with my gorgeous new smile.