No, not belphoebe. But my homegirl Olivia and Mr.Sanityclause were born today, in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and seventy-seven.
I celebrated by hauling my tired butt up to Finch station and bowling in my ugliest shirt for the benefit of the birthday *boy* (let it be known that NOBODY else wore their ugly shirts, as they had been instructed to do, and my ugly shirt was a ST:TNG Captain’s uniform top – sweet humiliation, how you plague me).
Tomorrow the birthday *girl* will be having her shindig somewhere with a touch more class, the rooftop of the Park Hyatt. Bring on the eight dollar martinis!
Just so you know, I valiantly carried on the “most uneven” torch in your absence, alternating between actually knocking down large numbers of pins and getting those sweet, sweet gutterballs, all for team Z.
*fwoosh* *splat*
My giant appreciation to you both, for gracing my humble bowling party *and* for doing it in ugly shirts! A shared commendation to Team Z!
My birthday was just right – some close friends, a mildly embarassing sport that emphasizes *Body! Language!* and makes your arms hurt, and the thrill of taking off bowling-inspired outdoor shoes to put on actual real bowling shoes.. What a night!
Thankyou both for your awesome presents as well – Xbox karoake and a box full of delivered organic produce to my door (and TASTY produce at that!). I’m unclear whether vegetables or karaoke is better for you, but it’s a contest that will be decided at the Christmas Party..
(And they were $13 martinis, thank-you very much.. I nursed that one beer like I would nurse a small, tasty, ever drinkable Belgian child..)