Okay, so I promised you details on my birthday dinners and such.

Friday night I came home to a roasted pork tenderloin and these:

and these:

Saturday we went out to lunch, went window shopping downtown and I picked out a sweater. Then we went home so that WH could watch his college football game and I gave myself a pedicure.

Tuesday morning, WH left for his week in the field (with Badass- photos to follow), and I went to work. My two best friends and partners in crime had presents for me- sweaters and dark chocolate. Do these girls know me, or what?

I left work about 1pm and headed to Target, where I used various birthday checks to buy three new bras (the Gillian O’Malley ones, I bought a strapless super-bra for R’s wedding and vowed to add their regular demis to my bra arsenal. Ten dollars a piece, and the strap adjustment thingys are IN THE FRONT where I can get to them without doing my monkey impression. HEART THESE.), a sweet pair of slippers with real soles so that I can wear them out in the yard to go down to the basement, out to the store, etc., and yet another sweater. Also, had a whole milk hot cocoa while procuring these items.

(See, I told you I had a sickness! For sweaters, not hot cocoa. Okay, maybe both?)

Then the two aforementioned partners in crime met me at R’s house, and the three of us headed out for Mexican food and margaritas. Once I was good and trashed, we went back to R’s house and giggled there until the wee hours, at which point I drove home, listened to approximately 47 Happy Birthday messages on the answering machine and passed out in bed.

It is just now, at the late hour of 1pm, that I am able to form sentences and see straight. Why is it that greasy McDonald’s breakfast works such wonders on a hangover?

I guess maybe 28 is a little old to tear it up on a work night.


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