|"nice cupcakes you got there, ma'am"|
(things i would like to hear on my b-day
from kyle chander for 200, alex)
|special k chicas|
mr. yuk sticker on key card cos the doors to hell are toxic, yo
Aaaaaanywho, it was a lovely couple of days. Facebook lit up with a crapton of ego-boosting birthday wishes; my Special K buds sang purposely off-key to me over Beets' flaming, homemade, delicious red velvet cupcakes; my steel drum compadres had beach rum punch and a snowman ice cream cake at the end of (and before) practice, and Geo showered me with Paul Frank's Julius monkey wear. All wonderful gestures to make this pinhead feel loved and appreciated on the anniversary of her birthing.
But let's backtrack to the morning of my actual birthday, shall we. The morning I swung open the shower curtain and found this bad boy glaring at me...
|saftey first, grandma|
A bath rail??!?
Next thing you know, I'll be ordering a side of glucosamine/chondroitin with my Pinot. Although that might not be a bad idea. Hmmmm...
After my initial outrage, I laughed my ASS OFF! When I finally remembered to
In related news...
So, yesterday I'm heading out to go to drum practice when I step on an icy patch, take flight Matrix slo-mo style, and do an epic face plant right into the snow bank of our flower bed.
Right there in our wee front yard, in front of God and everyone, which was no one, thankfully. Aaaah, but the legend lives on in this Snow Shroud of Asshatery.
|you can see my glasses outlined|
okay, i do. shut up.
|now with googly eyes|
when did my head turn into the Grinch?!??
When I realized I wasn't broken, I laughed my fucking arse off at the spectacle of my sticking the landing, so to speak. Dude, there was snow covering both the inside AND outside of my glasses. And it just clung there because it was sofa king COLD out. It would not come off. Seriously. I had to practically use a scraper to clean the shitz from my specs. And my song book... Oye. It had snow, ice, shards of small frozen wood nymphs jammed all up in there.
Besides a bag full of my shredded dignity, I did walk away with a lovely parting gift... A ginormous eight inch welt on my dainty thigh. At least the swelling is filling in the cellulite holes. Oh, and let's not forget the Asshat Shroud above that will remain a constant reminder until April because this is what Pittsburgh looks like now and the near future.
(okay, I just threw that shroud mention in again for an excuse to show these two photos, cuz DAAAAAMN! It's messed up around here.)
|icy cooooooold muthafucka|
and yes, the answer is it IS cold enough for me, MFer
(spectacular photo NOT taken by me)
|the plumber's crack of pittsburgh|
(spectacular ass crack shot taken by moi)
And now, JUST NOW, I stuck the rubber tip of my slipper into the carpet and nearly launched myself headlong into the computer cabinet. I am not even kidding. Just call me Grace and cover me in bubble wrap.
Maybe a shower chair isn't such a bad idea after all.