Goodbye birthday week. Can't wait for our 33rd.

I love my birthday.
Anyone who knows me knows this factoid.
Last night, I had a little "drinks n things" get-together with my posse at the River Grille in Plains to celebrate my 32nd year.

The night consisted of three vodka martinis with dinner, anywhere from 7-10 vodka and 7-Ups and a tequila shot.

{I don't do this often, and being that it was my birthday and all, kindly hush.}

What follows is a verbatim journal entry from this morning, when I was still balls deep in bed spins, vodka breath and without the ability to fully open my eyes.
Enjoy:

"I feel EXACTLY as I deserve this morning. Ugh. Threw up 2x last night when Michael dropped me off - have small urge to do it again. Keep having mini dizzy spells and think contacts still in but can't quite tell. Found ring in kitchen. Maybe there's a unicorn in here somewhere, can't be too sure. 10:01 a.m."

Ahh.
At least I had one hell of a Bridget Jones-esque send off for my birthday week, even if I did have to pay for it a little bit.

Probably right, maybe wrong.

Had a most thought-provoking night thus far.
Whiling away the evening on my porch with "The Fountainhead," my skull-covered journal and my orange haiku/tanka notebook, I watched my neighbor and landlord working in their yards - and realized some things about myself.

And, when I came in and looked at the mail sitting on my desk - a cable bill and a booklet entitled "Bridal Bells" from a local jeweler - I realized some more things as I leafed through the blue book with shiny diamonds and sweet little sayings like:

"The icing to this perfect day"

and

"Sometimes love begins with a glance"

- I'll probably never be someone who relishes the feel of my hands digging in cold, fresh dirt, no matter how much I adore the scent of freshly-churned earth.


- I'll probably never feel the cold metal of a one-carat emerald-cut bauble I won't settle for less for.


- I'll probably never understand how people have a home they take care of themselves because they own it. (Clearly the words of a perpetual renter who can just call her landlord she affectionately calls "Mr. Roper.") (Plus, sometimes they feed me. Pizza. And sometimes ice cream cake.)


- I'll probably never be a really good singer. (This has already been proven true.)


- I'll probably never dance in my newly cleaned and spacious attic like I say I want to, despite taking ballerina lessons when I was 5ish, and clearly being a star Sugar Plum. (Nor will I ever be as graceful.)


- I'll probably never not paint my nails like a 5-year old.


- I'll probably never get tired of savoring a nicely chilled glass of bourbon whilst in complete and utter solitude in the midst of the noises of my neighborhood.


- I'll probably ... but maybe I'm wrong.

"Someone call the Gendarmes!"

So we've established that yesterday, I was an absolute bear.

After feeling better after my tan, a good journal venting, and a nice toddy, I set off for bedfordshire.

Knowing I had to be up and out of the house unnaturally early this morning for an assignment, I had a restless night.

I was nervous that this would be the first time I'd miss my alarm, and was such a worrywarts I actually dreamed about missing my appointment!
(The dream involved a former coworker flying in from Florida to cover for me because I was sitting in my car trying to take pictures of wind turbines through the windshield. Uhh ... must have been the toddy ...)

So when my alarm did wake me up, I got up and got going and turned on my Sirius Satellite Radio - as I do immediately every morning.

What was the first song, you ask?
"Murders in the Rue Morgue" by one Iron Maiden.

Honestly, any day is automatically better when it's started with a little Maiden in the morning!

"I kissed a ..." Oh, shut the hell up already (and other random thoughts).

My mind is racing - in a good way - so here are some random thoughts I've got going on in this noggin of mine:

• I lit my favorite candle in the world tonight: Yankee Christmas Eve. It is delectable, and my apartment smells fantastic. I don't know why I am so drawn to it because my house never smelled like this as a child, but I find it so familiar and comforting. I'd burn it all year long, if I didn't burn the whole thing every holiday season.
• I am astounded by how much I loathe the following: 1. Spencer and Heidi, 2. Pete Wentz and 3. Katy Perry. Who the hell are these people and why why why do we care so much about what the hell they are doing!?

1. Spencer and Heidi: What exactly is there not to hate? His face, with that peach-fuzz 'stache and her always-agape mouth like she is just so surprised to see photogs capturing a moment they probably invited the photogs too? Please. Go. The. F. Away.
2. Pete Wentz: I loved "The Jungle Book" just as much as the next person, but Mowgli as a middle name? Seriously? Jerk. Yet I don't loathe Ashlee for being half responsible. And I just have to hate any man that can apply eyeliner better than me.
3. Katy Perry: Who decided to give this Betty Page-wannabe a record contact? Are we so hungry for girl-on-girl anything that we'll lap up an off-key song for the better part of a year? She is everywhere right now and reading about her in Rolling Stone every week is making me sick. She seems like such a dick.
4. Speaking of K.P., SNL did a wonderful skit about her, which included the line "I saw a boat and I liked it." The other day, the damn song got stuck in my head, but I mixed up the song and the skit and sang, "I kissed a goat and I liked it" to myself. It happened whilst I was brushing my teeth and I almost choked because I laughed so hard. Where do these things even come from??

• Having gotten all that off my chest, I must comment on how much I adore my mom's homemade iced tea that I bring home every Sunday mixed with Cabo Wabo tequila. It's like a little dash of summer right in my Stegmaier glass and cold apartment.
• Thanks in part to an addiction to the new Guns n' Roses CD, "Chinese Democracy," I've recently come off another to Sirius' Led Zeppelin Radio, and returned to my guilty pleasure: Hair Nation. God darn I love '80s hair metal! Long live devil horns, yowza!
• I have not started Christmas shopping yet, and it's making me nervous. I am so swollen with the holiday spirit (yes, I do realize how gross that sounds, but I can't stop saying it, here let me say it again: swollen with the holiday spirit. Ewww!). But as I was saying, I am just so excited about the entire holiday. I can't wait to wrap gifts (once I get them, clearly), write out cards and revel in my gorgeous lil' tree that looks exceptionally beautiful and bright this year.
• I think I am going to hang up this blog and move on to my journal, I feel the itch of putting a pen to paper, instead of clicking keys, sneaking up. Sometimes you just have to go back to basics, non?