Spoiled Rotten

Holy mackerel. That was so much better than smelts. Mike made seared scallops, sauteed shrimp, grilled asparagus and Italian bread for my birthday dinner. It was soooo yummy! I took pictures to show how pretty it was, too, but now my computer at work is not cooperating with my camera, so I suspect I’ll be buying myself another birthday present (laptop) in the coming weeks. Photography is my crack, I cannot go without sharing the love…of crack? Anyways, I gotta go finish my champagne.


Happy Birthday to Me

Ah. Flowers delivered at work: twice.

Desired particle size distribution achieved: once.


Now, if it would only just hurry the hell up and be five, so I could go home, maybe I would not be the grumpiest birthday girl in the neighborhood. Stupid people will not stop existing just to suit me. I suppose someday I’ll have some sort of strategy other than just rolling my eyes and then realizing they can, like, see that I condescend. Oops. Fuck it, it’s my birthday. Be as stupid as you want to be, I’ll deal.

Eve of Distraction, Six Point Seven Five

Tomorrow I turn 27. This might be the first year I’ve truly not looked forward to my birthday. Not even a little.

When I was little, older relatives and acquaintances would get a helluva rise out of me by jokingly insisting that on the off years (I’m a leap day baby), I HAD no birthday. No cake, no presents, etc. That’ll piss you off as a kid.

But I think I might adopt that strategy. Just ignore the aging thing. Check in once every four years or so. Five years, to start, because I’m guessing I’ll be less than excited to turn 7 (x 4 = 28) next year. This leap day thing doesn’t seem to have another highlight until 64, when I can throw myself a Sweet 16 party. Okay, that makes me feel young again! Mission accomplished.

How Gauche

I’ve never been an Oscar-party type; I like fashion, but…. This is the first time I remember seeing them actually put the phrase “So and so is wearing whatshis/herface” at the bottom of the screen like it’s breaking news. I can see it being cool for the up-and-coming, yet-to-be-expensive designers who can talk someone – who they know will be on camera – into wearing one of their designs, but Armani and de la Renta hardly need free advertising. Shit, maybe they have to pay for their name in lights. Ironic?

[Sighs contentedly]

What a weekend! I think I’ve rediscovered the fountain of youth. Since we moved 40-ish minutes from my hometown, it’s become standard operating procedure to just not do anything out-and-about often on Friday nights. Just too much driving, usually, to both come home from work to meet up, get ready, and head back out in one car. But!

If you invite people to your house on a Friday night, they come! And damn, I had way too much fun. I hear that my server friend below disliked my $3 shoes so much that she talked my sister into kidnapping them! I’ll play dumb for a while, that whole thing [let’s get some shoes] cracks me up. I imagine the conversation went something like this:

“Susie….pssst, Susie!”


“You have to take these things with you [holds them at arm’s length]!”


“They are so ugly, don’t you think? If she keeps them, she’ll wear them somewhere….with me!”

Much laughter ensued, I’m sure of that…if not much else that happened after 1 am or so that night. Too much fun. Love it!

Yesterday, we recovered and went to BW3’s, saw more people from the wayback machine. If anyone can be free March 10th, there’s a fundraiser at Flanagan’s Pub for a 5-year-old with bone cancer, arranged by some friends (of mine, they’ll vouch for legitimacy) of his parents. Word is the little guy’s got a 20% survival rate on his plate, so the money will be donated to research (wish I’d written the type of bone cancer down), and part will go to the family for a vacation or something once-in-a-lifetime for the tot & his three siblings. They’re raffling off all kinds of tickets to sporting events, fine jewelry, etc.

I’m sure that, just like last night, there will be lots of faces I haven’t seen in years. It really is hard to believe that our 10-year high school reunion is next year! Feels surreal, this life thing. Last night, the very recently-ex husband of a girlfriend of mine (met her in fifth grade) showed up. Completely unexpected, to me, I didn’t think the group of people we were meeting were his crowd at all. But he seemed pretty bitter – and I can see why, I suppose. I hate to say this about a marriage that I thought was on solid ground, but I’m guessing she’s much happier with her new fiance. High-speed drama, and it’s not even on the Internet. I suppose that time flies, period. Let’s have some fun.

Tip Wisely

Last night my friend, who’s a server, told me a horror story about a lost tip. Basically, she did the responsible thing, cutting off a party of drinkers who’d had their fill (and, by the way, had a two-month-old infant in tow). When they were told they could not have any more badjuans (margaritas), they waited until she turned her back and approached the bar to procure beers. She gratuitized (yes, I know that’s not a word, but it works here) their bill – being a party of six or more, which is restaurant policy – to add a 20% tip to the check. The party chose to ignore this gratuity, having already become belligerent when cut off. They paid exactly the price of their food and drink, totally stiffing her, and walked out. Her manager, known as The Glacier for his slow-moving nature (a huge annoyance in the restaurant business), did absolutely nothing to back her up when she requested he deal with the drinkers himself after they had cussed her out for ‘bad service.’ That was $40 she was owed, rightfully. The Glacier didn’t even ask the party not to return to the establishment. Service should be refused to those fucks.

Here’s another look at tipping. I think waiter of waiter rant is a brilliant writer, but also a brilliant person, in general. He really has a grasp on what makes people tick, and how to best deal with the people that stand between you and your goals. Kudos, waiters and waitresses.