Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful birthday wishes (Laura got me a pony!). Chuckweasel and I did NOT end up going to the Mexican joint, because we were wooed away by Logan’s Roadhouse (they were having one of those “2 can dine for something-99” deals, but of course we didn’t get any of those, they’re NORMAL-sized entrees!) The Weasel got chicken tenders (possibly because they didn’t make a club sandwich — I’ll cover his weird dining habits in more detail in a later post) and I got Ribs and Shrimp and a liquor drink that — honest to Jeebus — came in a JAR. Like, they brought you a glass with ice and some of the drink in it, then set down this JAR with probably 2 more drinks’ worth in it!
I was FUCKED.UP. And I mean singing-and-dancing-in-the-car-on-the-way-home fucked up. Chuckweasel is a goddamn SAINT for putting up with my shenanigans!
Plus, then before I went to bed, my drunk ass decided it would be a good idea to “paint” my fingernails with Sharpie marker. Black on the left hand, red on the right. Interestingly enough, the red has smeared and faded, but the black still looks cool… wouldn’t you think all Sharpie would be the same?
PS — I forgot to mention — the boys at work gave me a “prison birthday” — a single pack of snack cakes and a little microwaveable bowl of ravioli. Just like on “Hard Time!” No candles, though, we’re not allowed access to fire!
UPDATE!!!! OMG, the fuckers fixed the bathroom fan! What a great birthday!