“Happy Birthday” serenade from our Chairman of the Board as Donald Duck
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“Happy Birthday” serenade from Martie as Edith Bunker
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“Happy Birthday” serenade from the teenage Pizza Delivery Guy as the teenage Pizza Delivery Guy, just because I asked
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“You Say it’s Your Birthday” serenade from Coach as The Beatles
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♥ ♥ ♥
(before birthday party and because pedicures tickle)
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(at birthday party, because we are all 12-year old boys)
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(and again, 12-year old boys . . . )
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Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaa!
♥ ♥ ♥
(Wolverine-fascination)
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New co-worker who is just so dang pretty, especially because he cut in some Wolverine-esque sideburns just for me, for my birthday, because of Wolverine-fascination
(I will include the picture I took of him in an update if he allows me too, but he’s out of town and I never include that stuff without asking permission first. UPDATE: Got it!)
(and there’s a small story about him below)
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Happiest girl in the world
(probably because of hormone overload)
♥ ♥ ♥
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(Ugh. But, Yum!)
Yes, all of those cakes were made for me. Don’t forget I had pineapple cupcakes too.
Yes, I went to the gym yesterday morning. At 5:00. Yes, I did Body Pump which included something called Frogs which made me want to DIE. Yes, I did Spin after that for 45 minutes. Yes, we did climbs and sprints which made me want to DIE. Yes, my butt hurts. Also, yes, I ran three miles today (on the treadmill, which I hate). And yes, thank you, I do feel amazing. And also, yes thanks, I know that my clothes are almost too tight because all of that birthday cake and wine and celebration.
Thank you for noticing. It was worth every bit of it.
Yes, I did take all of that cake to work. I know one of them looks a bit off but it fell over on the drive to work. It still tasted great. I sent out an email letting co-workers know that I had three kinds of cake on my desk and to please come help themselves.
It sounded like a herd of water buffalo had invaded the office what with all of the thundering down the hall. I’m willing to bet I really was everyone’s favorite yesterday. Except for this guy . . . the pretty co-worker sent this in reply to my email: Soooo dirty. You know that I am out of town. Now I just have to sit here and wonder how tasty your cakes are and I picture each delicious slice disappearing like the count down to Armageddon, I am now left with the feeling of hopelessness. Thank you, I’ll remember that. I have a feeling that like Quan, he belongs to us. We should take him to the Mongolian BBQ place to find out for sure.
Cake = gone.
Which means:
Clothes = still fit (but barely).
Whew.
Love, Jimmie 