Whether your Friday has been looking after children all day, or being sat in a office from 9am? You are exhausted. Your preparation for your weekend to begin? The sweet sound of the clasp of your bra being undone. And dropping to the floor. Hell it's only 6pm? But it's never too early to let them boobs hang free (and low)
OOTD (that is youth speak for Outfit Of The Day)
Bra is off. Pyjamas are on. Slippers are worn. If it's summer you may wear a cheeky comedy version of pyjamas from Primarni involving Disney Princesses. If it's winter you are more than likely to be in a tartan pair. Sometimes you may wear a long striped shirt nightie. Thinking you look all cool and trendy. Combined with Matalan slippers and a dirty dressing gown? You don't. And put some bottoms on for gods sake. We can see your fanny.
Knowing Ones Limitations
About an hour before the kid's bedtime you mentally prepare yourself for gorging on a take away of some sort. You are going to eat that Chinese/Pizza/Curry SO HARD it won't know what's hit it. You lustfully discuss with your other half ramming prawn toast down your gob and wonder how many spring rolls you can consume. There are no limitations for Friday night take away. You survived another week. YOU EARNED IT.
That All Important First Drink
YES! The kids are asleep. You scour the drinks cupboard for anything that is vaguely alcoholic. You realise that all that is left is one solitary shot of gin. That's not going to cut it. Your other half is sent out to get some more. You add sweets to the list. Remember? No food limitations on a Friday!
Your other half. but technically speaking? It isn't really company is it? You sit on different couches, gorging on food, drinking a cheap bottle of booze, occasionally asking him to turn the channel over or if he minds "watching Made in Chelsea". He couldn't give a sh*t. He's ignoring you playing Candy Crush.
The General Public
Are not welcome. No one needs to think of knocking your door unless they are delivering a take away. And even then they will be forced to witness your low flying boobs in a grubby dressing gown.
Cocktails on a Friday night would involve some sort of actual getting up from the couch. Booze when you are staying in, is often warm, sometimes tin based and never consists of more than a shot, a mixer and ice if you're feeling super fancy.
Not talking to your husband, watching Netflix not talking to your husband, staking people on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook, catching up on tele, moaning you are too full but carrying on consuming a Curly Wurly, not being arsed to go for a wee, pretending to make a Pinterest board but then getting distracted by funny memes, watching clips of comedy animals on YouTube. Did I mention not talking to your husband?
There is no music on a Friday night in. There is only tele. Lots and lots of tele.
Time to Go To Bed?
You wake up at 9:34pm on the couch wondering where the hell you are. Then you remember you were half way through an episode of Breaking Bad which you have still never managed to see more than one episode of. You vow to stay up till at least 11pm. You have some Fruit Pastilles to tide you over.
Time to Go To Bed!
F*uck it. It's 10pm. You have been up since 5am. You work out really that's the equivalent of someone who gets up at 7am being up till midnight! You congratulate yourself on staying up and jump happily into bed.
The Next Day
It's a Saturday so you mix it up a bit and order a Balti. And ensure you pick up a full bottle of gin in the weekly shop. Happy days.