When the weekend rolls around and Mother Nature decides to throw a 50-degree-variable curveball your way (that is, balmy turns to freezing right before it's time to solidify nightlife plans), there comes the need for a little soul-searching.

Do you brave it, with the hopes of huddling among others in a drafty bar and striking up conversation with an intriguing stranger? Do you brave the roads to attend that out-of-town party to which you were invited? Or do you bunker in, curled up with blankets and snacks?

I opted for a run to the grocery store, multiple DVD rentals and a maple latte. Any stranger with whom I might like to chat would likewise stay home, if he had any sort of common sense. And I didn't feel like challenging the fates with another party venture on the icy highways.

Which means my hot dates for the weekend were Brad Pitt, Adam Brody, Sean William Scott, Johnny Knoxville and John Cusack. Rawr.

What can I say? A girl's got to keep warm.

Sometimes it feels good to just let myself recharge - to lounge around on floor or on couches with the flatmates, watch dumb movies and see C smirk as B and I aw or laugh in unison precisely when the Hollywood head honchos hoped we would (because we are Those Girls). Stay up until I'm tired and sleep until I'm refreshed. With a break early Saturday to help move a couch (a test of female independence that left me feeling victorious Saturday, sore as hell Sunday), and another early yesterday afternoon to get my running-prompted endorphin fix, relaxation was the word.

And it felt pretty damn glorious.

So take that, Mother Nature. Go ahead. Throw what you will at me whenever you want to. I'll still make the most of it.

Actually, as it's 9 degrees outside right now, let me rephrase. Mother Nature, gently toss in my direction whatever you want to.

Yeah, that's right.