Flowers from my husband with a card that read, "Happy 29th." Funny, real funny. We all know I am repeating my 29th birthday from here on out.
Cupcakes, also from my husband. I love cupcakes for any reason what-so-ever. Nom. Nom.
A long table filled with my Marietta friends and their accompanying dates and poisons.
This is my birthday meal I decided to order: Lobster Linguine. It looks splendid as a picture, but honestly it failed. The Lobster was imitation (what do I expect in Ohio), but what got me down was that it was cold. Warm noodles, cold Lobster, untorn at that, eh, kinda gross. O well.
~~~
None of the drinks and food mattered anyway, just side items to a great night out with friends. I got exactly what I wanted, a gathering of friends and laughing. We even muscled through a band that was pretentiously described as being almost every influence and genre in the book and that's what they sounded like: muddled rock that vibrated our skulls. We migrated to another bar/eatery in Marietta. Much better. Light and bright, acoustic guitar playing, and a Birthday mixed drink that tasted like a watermelon Jolly Rancher, in other words, probably really heavy on the liquor. I am a woos. I drank 1/4 of it before, Jill, a new fun friend, brought me over a shot. I am a woos again, and only managed to drink half. In all honesty, liquor makes me feel like a train wreck, and having to get up with my kiddos the next day and try to be competent, not worth it. So, I finished the evening, baby sipping a Michelob Ultra (my favorite beer, because it doesn't taste too much like beer or anything). I could tell I was getting to my unflattering stage, past the funny ice-breaking rambles, into the slowly rotting tired brain nonsense: enter comment about the weather here, for example. My friend Julia dropped me off. I was happy as a clam and drunk as a skunk. Good times.
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