It’s my birthday! I’m thirty-one. I have officially been old enough to drink legally for TEN YEARS. My god, that thought is horrifying. I remember how far away 21 seemed when I longed to be able to buy my own beer, and now I’m 10 years from that on the other side.
If you’re wondering why I’m writing a blog post instead of doing something fun and exciting to celebrate, it’s because it’s miserable outside. The weather is always a little flaky on my birthday but it’s not usually outright COLD. And it’s cold. Sunny, but windy and and cold. And since I’m still expelling an ungodly amount of mucus, I’m not willing to suffer through it for even a spring training baseball game, which the boyfriend lovingly offered up even though his back’s all screwed up and I know he isn’t impressed with the weather either. Now that I think about it, it was really windy on my birthday last year too, but it was HOT. I passed up a beach day because of the wind since getting sandblasted is NOT fun (I was also really hungover). So I’m here with the boyfriend, who is laying in bed with his bad back, and the kitties, who are sleeping on the couch next to me and in the cubby hole of the cat tree.
The boyfriend took me to get vegan pancakes this morning only for us to discover that the place serving the vegan pancakes is in fact no longer open. It was a truly lovely thought, though. And he got me vegan cupcakes!
I also got this amazing book, I Could Pee on This.
Poems by a cat. I assume they were dictated to a human. I had fun annoying the boyfriend while reciting some of them to him. Highly amused.
Except for the stupid weather, I feel loved and adored in my advanced age. I’ve had well-wishes and presents from all over, particularly on facebook, which makes one feel rather popular. Tonight I will drink with some friends and will attempt some sort of moderation, as hangovers have only gotten worse for me the older I get. We’ll see how that works.
I don’t like romance. I mean, I love it in movies and books and stuff, but in real life, it creeps me out. Taking the trash out is so much more meaningful to me. A six-pack is better enjoyed than flowers that will die (don’t get me wrong, I love flowers, but I have to hide them in my bathroom or take them to work because the cats will eat them – also, I feel kinda bad about the death of pretty flowers in general). Being serenaded seems like it would be so UNCOMFORTABLE. Where does one look? No one actually gazes into their loved ones eyes whilst being sung to. No one gazes into their loved ones eyes at all, except maybe for a few seconds. If romance is your thing, I’m not knocking it. It’s just not mine. But as far as V-Day goes, I’m not into it. Besides, my birthday is less than a month away and I DO love celebrating my birthday.
The kitties got me a card this year. Amazing, particularly because they don’t have opposable thumbs, means with which to get to the store to buy a card, or jobs with which to pay for said card. I guess this makes it that much more amazing that they got me one. Of course, the boyfriend did too. After almost 10 years, he knows that while I don’t care for cheesy romantical crap, I love me a damn card. So impressed the kitties know this as well. Glad they didn’t try to sign it with paw prints. The last time that was attempted, it was our cat Jager, who made a paw print with Jagermeister on my Mother’s Day card. Yeah, that went over well.
But anyway, it was a regular ol’ day for me. Work, gym, then more work. I do feel a TEENY BIT MORE loved by all my boys tonight. Wow, that made me sound like a slut. Just to be clear, I meant the boyfriend and the 2 furry sons. Really.