On Friday evening, when I was still sitting at my desk at 5:26 p.m., I made a promise to myself to actually enjoy my weekend as far away from work as possible. This is kind of unusual because, due to the nature of Starlite, weekends are typically very much “on-call” for me but, for this weekend, I decided to try to be as much like a typical 24 year old girl as possible.

I decided to sleep in on Saturday morning, but made the mistake of not mentioning that plan to my extremely, extremely attractive neighbor who has a little construction project going right outside my bedroom window. I’ll forgive him for the 7 a.m. wake up call that came courtesy of his power saw simply because he said a very heartfelt “hey, girl” when I went outside earlier today and if there is anything I’m a sucker for, it’s a man calling me “girl.”

No, for real. What can I say? I’m easy to please in the terms of endearment department.

Saturday night was spent doing a bunch of nothing and by nothing I mean I actually cleaned my bedroom, but only because I kept losing Cuddles underneath piles of clothes. I was asleep by 1 a.m., wide awake by 2:35 a.m. because I am the fool who gets email notifications on her cell phone and then back asleep sometime around 4:30 a.m. This was perfect timing because it allowed me to get a full 2.5 more hours of sleep before Neighbor Boy whipped out his chainsaw, effectively scaring me to the point I literally fell out of bed.

By Sunday afternoon I had worked myself into a little tizzy over something, which was perfect timing for my friend Cara’s call straight from Ecuador because there is no one who can help me understand The Opposite Sex We Refer To As Males like Cara can.

Oh, I kid. No earthly being will ever really understand males.

Cara and I talked for an hour and twenty one minutes, during which the following items were discussed in no particular order: boys, brownie mix, boys, our former college days, boys and even a little bit about boys if you can believe it. I think the real highlight of the conversation, however, came when we began discussing the rarely mentioned topic of boys during which I admitted that, during the previous 24 hours, I had copied no less than three sets of lyrics to country music songs into my diary whilst changing certain lyrics to make them appropriate to my particular situation.

This is disturbing on various levels with the most unnerving being the fact that I actually know the lyrics to three country music songs.

We took turns spilling our guts (and some tears, if I’m going to be honest) whilst reassuring each other that, even though we don’t understand what’s going on in a few different areas of our lives right now, this moment we’re in won’t last forever.

Of course, whilst we were having that conversation, I was burning a letter I had written the night before because, really, there’s nothing that says HELLO, I’M AN ADULT like tearing up a piece of notebook paper and dropping it one piece at a time into the flame of the Febreze candle sitting on your dresser.

What’s that, MTV? You’d like to use this blog post as a script for your new pre-teen reality show? Be my guest and, by the way, I’m in the job market if you’re looking for someone to host a new afternoon chat show that discusses important topics like boys and boys.

I’m happy to tell you that Cara and I managed to get a hold of ourselves and, by the end of the conversation, I was pacing my bedroom floor yelling “LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD!” into the phone while Cara argued that it’s more like a minefield and, really, I think we all know she’s correct.

This upbeat ending to our phone call prompted me to use the last remaining few cents of my iTunes gift card to download Jordin Sparks’ new song Battlefield which is FULL of lyrical masterpieces such as this gem:

“One minute it’s love and, suddenly, it’s like a battlefield.”

Oh, and this one, too, which is basically the entire chorus:

“Why does love always feel like a battlefield, like a battlefield, like a battlefield?”

The real high point of the song, however, is the bridge in which Jordin suggests it’s time to go and get our armor with a beat behind the suggestion that will make you feel like your bedroom is suddenly a stage set in front of 10,000 girls rocking it out with you whilst you, in your pink and black pajamas, sing into your toothbrush in front of your mirror before copying the lyrics, which you now know by heart because you just listened to the song seven times in a row, into your diary.

I mean, that’s what I imagine people feel like. I wouldn’t know or anything ridiculous like that.