Bleah. I had a nice lazy sewing-at-a-friend's-house evening planned, and she just called to apologize because she and her DH had promised their 6-year-old son they'd take him to Cars tonight and she'd completely forgotten about that when she and I talked earlier.
Hec had been planning to go out and putter around for a few hours, then come pick me up; as soon as she called me, I called him to let him know, but got no answer on either the home or cell phone. I just got home to find the car gone, the apartment empty, and his cell phone sitting on the mantel.
If Friday night weren't exactly the crappiest possible time to drive into SF and try to park in my neighborhood, I'd say "Perkins, leave your smelly gas-leaky office and come slounge on my couch and watch dopey movies and makeover shows with me." In fact, I may just say it anyway.