When I was little, the kids at school thought I didn't have birthdays because I didn't celebrate them. "HOW DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD YOU ARE???" they'd ask in all caps with three question marks after. It made me crazy when people couldn't understand that the event could still happen, even if the party didn't. Apparently, this is just a concept that normal, everyday children are incapable of grasping.
Turns out, that whole situation totally works to my advantage now.
When I turned 19, my father threw a surprise party for me. I still technically wasn't "celebrating" my birthday, but I guess he was sick of waiting. He had his wife's mother invite me over for dinner and when I got there, I walked in to a full blown first birthday party complete with Winnie the Pooh decorations and a 101 Dalmatians cake. That was 15 years ago, so according to all those dirty little bastards on the playground, I am 15.
Which actually sounds kind of horrifying, come to think of it. Maybe I'll just run with 34.
The Donor took me out on Friday and we got our nails did together. If I can ever give any advice to you in life, it's to marry a man who appreciates a good manicure. I'm currently digesting all of my fingernails, so I got a pedicure instead.
They say the Royal Toe is a sign of advanced intelligence. Or inbreeding. One of those two, for sure.
Tanis may be hotter, but I post nicer feet pictures. Not by much, though.
Afterwards, we went out to reallyreally fancy dinner at this place we've had a gift certificate to for almost 2 years now where they make drinks with bruleed bananas as a garnish. (Which I ordered simply to snap a picture for Zoeyjane; excuse us while we giggle to ourselves.)
Yes, they have teency little flame-throwers behind the bar which they used to ever-so-delicately torch sugar-dipped banana slices. AS A GARNISH. Also, the drink umbrellas come with their very own itty bitty cabana boys. The food was good, really, but not nearly as good as the fact that my oldest son babysat for us so we could go. And kept everyone in one piece. We were home by 10, had Monty Python's Holy Grail on by 10:15 and I was unconscious and drooling all over the couch by 10:30. Which is, oddly enough, exactly how it would have gone if I had actually turned 15.