Let the Goosh Begin

A Fairly Fargone Self Portrait....

What a week. I said I wouldn't have a gooshy post about my birthday but it was bound to happen. I think this one could have been the best. Better than the lapdance from a stripper named Maria with loose morales. Better than the threesome after the box of wine. Better than meeting a past fling at a gas station. Drunk. At eleven a.m.

I've matured since then, obviously.

Sarah Kat and I have perfected the drunky hug


I can assure you I was showered with more love and affection than I think words can describe. And I'm a shitty writer with a lot of words in my pocket. Facebook messages, tweets, blog comments, cell phone texts all reasons I love being a social networking slut because the well wishes rained.

I got flowers not once but twice. Neither from a boyfriend but I wouldn't have had it any other way. Chocolate cake during the lunch hour complete with chocolate frosting (which proved to be a late bar snack)from Jessica the Wondergoddess. Friends coming as far from Kelowna and Vancouver to celebrate with babysitters arranged and work schedules balanced. The cutest purse I've ever laid eyes on (to be seen in future posts) golf clubs, fashion, cards that fit to a "t". Oh and a beach bag that reeks of hilarity. A visit from Bachelor #1 (Bachelor #2 is officially dead to me. Don't ask.) with a personal present (wink wink) and a promise to take me skydiving this summer. Nuts!

Two girls. One t-shirt. Great Canada Day.

A new little black dress courtesy of the best wife ever. A trip down the river and a beer garden and dancing to a drum beat around the solstice circle and fireworks (okay, technically these had more to do with Canada Day, but whatever). The laptop I gave myself as a present after not having a laptop for a week. Due to me giving it a christening with an 2ltr Wendy's iced tea. Oooooops.

Dinner and drinks and sparklers in brownies and iced cream and desserts. Enough Starbucks cards to last me...a month. And feed my Subway addiction. And the drinks. Oh dear god, the drinks. Ceasars and margaritas and shooters I've never heard of in my years of bartending.

Dancing. Flirting. Smoking cuban cigars. Hugs, photos. Hottubing. No swimmies allowed. Guys having a peen measuring contest in the hottub. Not looking at it. Seriously. I thought they just did that in the locker room. And there was almost a Bachelor #2 (#2 the sequel?) but a heads up to bachelors it's best not to hit on a girl and then two seconds later to grab her friends number. That is just bad form.

Yeah, my beach gear has street cred. And bows. Got a problem with that?

Realistically any time I ever complain about being lonely, I need to just turn to this post as I don't know when I've had that much fun in ages and felt so cared for. I have the best friends. I have the best family. I have tons to be grateful for....

The wife got me a plate with dividers so my foods don't have to touch. That's love.

But seriously, what drunkenly possessed me to finish the salmon burger that was left in the car for 7 hrs after dinner is beyond me. Friday was the grossest day of my life.