I suppose I should wrap-up the birthday celebrations and leave some glory for everyone else. This has been a particularly decadent birthseason, stretching nearly two weeks. If I continue at this pace, there won’t be any cupcakes left for anyone else.
Speaking of cupcakes, I’m starting a 21 day Boot Camp at the gym tomorrow morning at 6 AM. I’m a little afraid.
Kerry and JJ took me out for Indian food. So here are some more photos from Kerry’s camera. She brought me flowers, And then we went to Verite for Cupcakes Royale. I wanted a Chocobunny, but there were none left in the display case. So I got a Triple Threat, and then JJ asked for a Chocobunny, and the barista pulled a tray of them from behind the counter. I threw a hissy fit, so JJ split hers with me. She’s a good friend. Kerry brought purple glitter-infused candles. They sang and everything.
JJ, Kerry and me. There is steam coming out of my ears cause I ordered four stars.
A picture of me taking a picture of my cupcake, which didn’t come out.
Mark & Lori are here from Rhode Island with toddler Maya, who has doubled in size since I saw her last and is ridiculously cute. Every time I hang out with them, I’m like, “Well, maybe I could do this kid thing…” But for now I’ll stick to borrowing other people’s because then there’s more cupcakes for me.
Oh and then Miguelito was here and took me out to dinner, and conned me into seeing Persepolis at the Harvard because I didn’t know it was animated. I hate animation. It was artfully done and an important story, blah blah blah, but if I wanted to watch cartoons I could just stay home. It was, however, fabulous to see him as always, and he invited me to Coachella, which I obviously must attend. I’m going to fly into LA and we’ll drive out to Palm Springs. Michael is my kind of traveler — when I raised an eyebrow at the invite because of the 100 degree dusty tent camping, he says, “Are you kidding me? I got a hotel room.” I’m all about clean sheets and hot, running water. High maintenance bitch? Perhaps. But it’s important to accept ones weaknesses and plan accordingly. Especially 1300 miles from home.
What else? Um, still no Vespa to speak of. Big People Scooters can’t find the problem and Vespa Seattle is not returning my calls, so it’s Ducati de-ja-vu all over again. Thankfully the Frankenstella is holding her own, though I’m still uneasy about longer rides so I will avoid them for now. Not that getting back an un-diagnosed dying scooter is going to assuage my fear of being stranded halfway to Portland.
We’ve been restoring old photographs in my Digital Imaging class and I’m enjoying it so much that I’ve been thinking about going into business. I would have a blast. I’ll have to post some of the pics I’ve been working with. If only I could figure out how to fix 80’s hair.
At 6 AM, John in the Morning decided to take me on a private flashback and played an insane set circa 1995, including old Smashing Pumpkins, Morissey and a Beatles song from Sgt. Pepper’s. I felt like I was in Ruby’s dorm room chain-smoking Marlboro Lights and drinking Beaujolais from the bottle. Then the pledge drive started and my trip down memory lane hit a detour.
Not much else going on. I have a ping-pong tournament today at work. I discovered that the new floor my department is moving to features a gameroom and a lake view. Not from my desk, of course. But I’ll enjoy it vicariously through the Chief of Staff.
Rock safely, friends.