A Banner Moment for Grown-Up Molly

It's been a rough week, indulgence-wise. I've found myself in a variety of ill-advised scenarios: a college town bar crawl for someone's 30th birthday (yes, 30th...we almost had to crawl, because we're too freaking old for this), somehow equating the amount of beer consumed with Butler's chances of making it past the NCAA Men's Sweet Sixteen, etc. At long last, my week of bad ideas and blurry evenings culminated in last night's smoky, bleary concert at the Vogue.

If you're my one regular reader, you know that I've been gearing up to see The Feeling live (again: The Feeling is a kicky little Brit-pop-rock band, not a Christian rock opera) and last night was THE night. And this morning was THE pits. So I did something this morning that I haven't done since I was 22 (we call that The Lost Year: the seven months three of my closest friends and I lived in our hometown and incessantly pre-partied for the first peer group wedding). I woke up, took one gander in the mirror, and put new make-up over the spots on my face where I had slept, danced, or boozed yesterday's make-up off. I busted the second coat. Class-AY. And it wasn't as if this was Working Girl make-up...this was working girl make-up (IF you catch my drift). Nothing screams professionalism like the smoky eye--unless you work at Hot Topic--and Febreze-d hair.

Now, I'm detoxing with green tea, reflecting on my wild week, and considering a 9:00pm bedtime. But I won't lie: I'd do it all again, Febreze and all.

BLOGGER'S NOTE: Febrezing your hair was just one of many genius ideas introduced during The Lost Year. My friend was in her first grown-up job (as a controller...an unassailably amusing title, no matter how you cut it) and routinely had to decide between tardiness and not sporting happy hour sights and smells to work. Tardiness is no laughing matter and as the woman in question is now a well-adjusted, high-powered financial type, I think we can all agree she made the right choice.