I have always been a huge fan of my birthday. While I know many people who try to ignore theirs, who don’t want to admit to getting older, I have never been among their ranks. Quite the contrary, I celebrate the miracle that is me surviving another trip around the sun. Seriously, there is no real reason why I am alive other than I am truly blessed or lucky.
Which means I love my birthday. Back in the day I would celebrate the entire month, then I got it down to the week before and the week after. Lately I have been trying to only celebrate the weekend, but my birthday is July 5th and it is so difficult when the day before your birthday is a holiday because, helllllo, built in party.
This year my day falls on a Sunday. (Since Independence Day is a Saturday, we are closed on Friday the 3rd…woot!) I was emailing or IM’ing with a friend and telling him how happy I am to have a long weekend to celebrate my birthday and he said him as well. The more we discussed our plans the more it became obvious…we both were born on July 5th. How fucking cool is that? No wonder we were instantly close friends when we met a few months ago. (Him in 1966, me in 1971.)
Reminded me of a day when I worked at the bank…maybe back in 1995 or so…and was talking with one of my favorite co-workers. He mentioned that his birthday was July 5th and I excitedly said, “Mine, too!”
My coworker looked at me in disbelief and gave me a stern, “Who told you to say that?”
This is the first year in all the years I have been going to Jimmy Buffett concerts that I actually remember the show. We are talking remember the tailgate, the performance, the walk back to the bus, the ride back to the hotel and even dropping my pants to moon a guy while I played Butt Bongo with my own ass. I REMEMBER ALL OF IT.
Seriously, this might be one of the first signs of the apocalypse. I mean, I never remember anything when I drink. Nothing!
I drank a bunch of beer. And many, many margaritas. Each already strong margarita was lovingly floated with another shot (or two or five) of tequila because my friends were trying to get me drunk. Just wasn’t working. Although when we actually went inside and I bought my two beers all the booze caught up with me. I laughed and danced and enjoyed the freedom of the booze. The Twitter updates began to make no fucking sense. Sorry about that.
Then on the bus back I kinda sobered back up. It was quite the strange (yet fantastic) concert experience.
Speaking of strange, check out how much shit I can cram into a little ass coconut purse:
It really is rather small… …yet I managed to fit: a Swiss army knife, dental floss, Chapstick, gum, Rolaids, metal hair clip, rubber hair band, aspirin, Advil, vitamins, lipstick, bottle opener, pen, business cards, blog cards, driver’s license, money, debit card, hand wet wipes, butt wet wipes and Band-Aids.
Anyhow, I didn’t take many real camera photos this year. Probably because I was terrified of losing yet another camera. A bunch of photos went up on Twitter, but here’s one from a big girl camera, a few moments before the drunk hit me:
And then after the drunk hit:
Here is Re, dancing with the douchebag of the night, a guy we kept calling Captain America:
He was insistent about wanting to take our photo for us. When I finally handed over the camera he hollered something about us showing him our boobs. My “it is my camera and I know what my boobs look like, douchebag” comment flowed as this photo was taken:
Anyhow, after we got back to Re’s mom’s house we stayed up a bit bullshitting. And loving on my dogs. (All day my aunt watched both of my dogs and Re’s son who is 3 1/2 years old, then let us come crash at her place. She fucking rocks.)
The next morning at the ass crack of dawn Re’s son decided to be all awake and cute. Which meant we were awake. Although I didn’t get out of my aunt’s bed even when he grabbed my camera and started taking photos of me and Reilly.
Or the back of Ludo’s head.
Hard to be mad at a cute kid who loves your dog and asks you to take his photo.
Especially when the night before this was his lunatic momma…
Man, I can’t wait until next year. Anyone wanna come to Pittsburgh and join me for the insanity? I promise not to stay sober for as long as I did this year.
Remember back in March when I met my little cousin’s friend? The one with the fantastic personality, adorable face and smokin hot bod? Well he is an exhibitionist at heart, a man who loves to be free of clothing. Fortunately he enjoyed being a part of the HNT fun and sent a photo taken just for our viewing pleasure. When I said that I would crop his face out he enthusiastically said that was not necessary. I suppose if my body was so damn perfect I would be just as proud. Regardless, without further delay, here again is Luke:
I am sure some of you still want me to post me (and others of course wish I would never do another HNT!). Recently life has been rather full, but I was able to quickly snap this photo. Wish the quality were better, but it will do for now.
If you enjoy HNT and want to see more participants, head over to where Os started it all and follow the links within his comments. Enjoy your day!
Jimmy Buffett concert tonight. Bus leaves the hotel my friends are staying in around 1 PM. Jimmy might take the stage around 9 PM. Drinking begins with Bloody Mary beverages for breakfast around 9 or 10 AM. Beer (case of Smithwick’s) and tequila (good stuff that can only be purchased in Mexico) have been secured. In the morning I only have to buy cheese, crackers, Doritos and crisp, hard, juicy grapes. And ice.
Oh yeah, this should be yet another memorable event. That I don’t remember. But I bet what I don’t remember is damn fun. Which may or may not involve temporary tattoos.
Although some asshole will certainly take embarrassing photos of me.
Even if I am laying in a gutter when the flashbulbs are going off.
Pray I don’t lost my $500 digital camera again this year. And all the great photos. Also it would be wonderful if I didn’t lose my phone again. Sheesh.
Remember back in February when I was sick and at the grocery store when a guy asked me out and I was questioning his sanity / taste in women? Remember how yinz all lost your shit on me? Well, something similar happened yesterday.
I had major bed hair and didn’t even shower, just woke up late, called Aunt Tinkle Twat to see if she wanted to do breakfast somewhere because I didn’t want to be alone, threw on a black spaghetti strap tank top along with my jean crappie pants and flip flops, then headed out to pick up Tinkle.
Her boyfriend wanted us to run to Lowe’s or Home Depot for some stuff so instead of going to Pamela’s down in the Strip we decided on Cracker Barrel out in Robinson. As we started up 60 I changed my mind and decided I wanted more of a diner so we jumped on 79 and BOOM, there we were at the best place in Pittsburgh (next to Pamela’s) for breakfast. There were even two seats at the counter open! I was all about happy.
Tink and I were talking and loudly laughing, even though outwardly we were both pretty much disasters…her with half of her hair plastered to her face and the other half standing straight out, me with my hair all Medusa like. (And I do mean laughing. The deep, belly laugh that almost causes me to bend over to grasp my sides, but then my face would have been in my S’mores pancakes.).
Then this guy came in with his young son, waiting for a table. Tink thought he kept staring at me, I said who wouldn’t with jacked up hair like mine. I exchanged smiles and glances and all with the attractive older man, then when it came time to pay we were both at the register at the same time. He introduced himself and we had a little chit chat. I blushed when he called me pretty, secretly thinking he must be crazy because HELLO, HAVE YOU SEEN MY HAIR THAT SCREAMED FRESHLY FUCKED OR SLEPT ON??!?! (The higher the hair, the closer to God!) When he said he would like to buy me lunch or dinner sometime, I heard all of you yelling at me about dismissing the guy back in February so I found myself agreeing to go out with him. We exchanged numbers and I practically ran back to Tinkle, all the while thinking this seemingly normal guy must be a freak.
So here is my dilemma. Is he crazy / needy / lonely on Father’s Day / an axe murderer who stares at women until they are intrigued or is he a nice guy who just was out with his son on Father’s Day and saw someone he was attracted to?
And if it is the latter? Well, I don’t trust anyone who is attracted to an un-showered Medusa me. I mean obviously he ain’t right in the head, right?
Ok, I am done rambling. Point is I listened to you fuckers and didn’t tell this dude that he is obviously fucked up if he hit on me Sunday morning. So if I do actually go out with him and I find myself chopped up in little pieces, in his freezer while he wears my hair as a wig? IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT, INTERNET.
Even though it is a crappy photo, it is still magnificent.
Lord Stanley’s Cup, home in Pittsburgh:
It is funny how this town kind of gets into your blood. Even when people move far away, they still have a soft spot for the Three Rivers, still bleed Black and Gold. When I went to visit my uncle, who has lived in Hawaii for over 10 years, I jokingly took a Pittsburgh flag. He wrapped it around himself like a blankey. I couldn’t help but giggle at how a man who lives in paradise could have his face light up at such an inexpensive present.
Gawd, I love this town.
A friend posted a photo on her blog of Limoncello. Instantly it reminded me of a time several years ago when I watched the (total chick flick) Under the Tuscan Sun. That movie made me take a special trip to the liquor store for a bottle of Limoncello.
Unfortunately I couldn’t remember the brand name the characters consumed in the movie. I bought whatever was on the shelf at eye level. Mistake. Blech. Give the bottle away terrible. Like Pledge mixed with rubbing alcohol.
Then today I stared at Finn’s photo and its caption “quite possibly my favorite italian import” while thinking of how much the movie’s characters enjoyed the drink. Finn replied to my comment saying that maybe I had to take one more sip. I emailed and asked the brand name she likes, which resulted in a nice little conversation.
Where am I going with all of this? Well during the emails Finn said, “Too bad you can’t just pop over and try some.”
How fucking cool is the internet?
(Hey Finn, when I buy a bottle of the brand you suggested I am going to call you so that we can have a drink together, k? xoxo)
ConFab, Baby! was all that I wanted and more.
For quite some time I have practically abandoned this wonderful little place of mine…rarely posting and hardly ever replying to comments. So not like me. I truly love this site and adore the friends I have made as a direct result of blogging. Life hitting me like a tornado meant something had to give.
But I can now see that having Midnight Cliff and my reading of blogs being the main brunt of my life’s insanity was a mistake. You are good people. And my life is better because you are all in it.
Thanks to Turn and Fab for opening their home to us. The party was fantastic because of your hard work and the incredible people you gathered together.
I needed that getaway more than I knew.
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OK. Clearly I lied seeing as how I am posting TWO WHOLE DAYS in a row. But I had a little time. So…whaaala…
As I mentioned yesterday, I’m going to Lexington to party with the other lunatics at Liz and Brad’s place in less than two weeks. Since the last two times I have been there I have at some point found myself at a tattoo parlor and I figure this time should be no different, I wanted to share with you the new artwork that I am looking forward to getting. Please tell me your honest opinion as to whether or not you like the design and where you think I should place the piece. And yes, you can even tell me not to get any more any thing (* waving at Adam *).
It should be noted that I would like to place this female tree (a version of the Tree of Life) on my left shoulder. The Strong Woman is on my right shoulder and the turtle with the Hawaiian islands is on my left upper butt cheek/waist band area. Eventually the mermaid riding the dolphin will be in the lower center of my back. Also there will be a frog of some sort somewhere and a quote from The Little Prince somewhere.
Here is the female tree:
Sorry the photo sucketh. The finished product will be awesome, though.