I've mentioned a few times how much I love my birthday. I know it's lame, but I really do. It's the only day dedicated to you - even when it's not.
This year, I was a lucky duck and received a plethora of birthday treats.
First, Andi and Ron flew up from Edmo to help ease my aging-related sorrows. We wandered around the city on Saturday, went to an Edmonton bar for lunch and the game and basically walked our asses off. Oh, we saw the Main Press Centre and heard many a foreign accent ... the Games are gonna be good.
The evening was supposed to be ... normal. Sarin had offered up her place for a gathering - I was thinking a pizza party, with booze and treats, and that would be that.
That wasn't that at all!
My Vancouver bitches blew me away.
Priscilla, Sarin and Mariel had put together one hell of a party actually. Complete with Justin Timberlake cake (I think I yelped when it came out), grown-up Twister (no nudity), theme, jello shooters, background images, ambient lighting, music, chicken & waffles, fondue ...
The list goes on and on.
And the best part: I had no fucking clue.
I LOVE surprises.
They are just oodles of fun - unless they're bad surprises, then, well, they aren't fun at all.
Anyways. Team Vancouver really caught me off guard.
So my 29th year started off really great - I felt very special.
Also, a chick in the bathroom at work was shocked when I told her my age. So, I'm totally ok with 29.
I'm totally ok with 29. I'm totally ok with 29. I'm totally ok with 29.