If you don't want to see a 33 year old woman cry on her birthday:

a) Don't give her maternity clothes disguised as a present. C'mon! No one likes maternity clothes and absolutely no one wants to get them as a birthday present. from your mother. who is supposed to know and love you! On top of that I personally, HATE/LOATHE and DESPISE all cropped pants, which is what I was given. Gross.

b) Don't serve her pizza at her own home when she has the opportunity to get out of the house for something that doesn't involve work and hanging out with 150 kids that belong to someone else. Especially when:
i) she doesn't LOVE Pizza Hut pizza (although I'll admit, it was kinda good last night so I might reverse my feelings on Pizza Hut--I <3 their salad bar, that's for sure!)
ii) you're going to leave your 30,000 water glasses unattended which means that I will be cleaning up the water my child has spilled out of your glasses--because when I bend, I can't breathe and I pee myself. Awesome right?

Do I sound like a cry baby? Absolutely. I am a horrible and spoiled person (and I'm totally cool with that). However, in my defense, someone made me that way (my mother, so she shouldn't be surprised when I am upset by ugly clothes that I don't want to wear) AND I'm super hormonal/miserable and really would've enjoyed a dinner away from my goddamn house that was made out of something other than pizza dough.

Anyways, there were two saving graces...my cool bag from John and the fact that I fell asleep at 9:20 so I didn't have to think about anything else that could possibly annoy me or make me cry.

When your Mother in Law asks you what you want for your birthday, don't ever respond with, "Oh, I think I have everything I need" (even if it's the truth) because you might end up with a pair of these earrings.

John, however, hit it out of the ballpark with a sweet Burberry messenger bag so that I'll stop using my "awesome" resuseable grocery bag from Target as my book bag.

I am 32 years old today.

Unlike the awesome birthdays of years past where I would take a sick day after my birthday this year, I'm having dinner with my mom and maybe if I'm really good...John will take me to the FQB for a drink or two.

It's my birthday and I have nothing exciting to say except that it has been the best one in a long time...between John, our families, friends and students I've been pampered.

Oh and I'll be able to torture John with the card the kids bought me that plays "Bad to the Bone", they know as well as me that he hates George Thoroughgood and yet I'll sing all his songs off-key to Johnny whenever the opportunity arises!!

Aside from my new pink digital camera (which is en route), it is the best gift ever!

Today's John's birthday but last night I surprised him (well, I might've surprised him a few days earlier) with tickets to see Daniel Johnston. He is a man who suffers from a whole slew of mental disorders but is a musical genius. Self taught he wrote and recorded his first album Hi, How Are You? and in his weird little way, introduced it to musicians, DJs and just about anyone who would listen to it. And although Daniel isn't known for his singing abilities (he's very high pitched, nasal and off tune) or his ability to play the guitar (he's amazing on the organ/piano but he's a little sketchy with the stringed instruments) there was something magical in his lyrics. People say he's right up there with John Lennon, that his raw talent is greater than Bob Dylan and anything that he produced with the Basement Tapes (this part is stolen straight from the documentary), but I don't think he can really be compared to anyone. Bands such as Nirvana and Sonic Youth (amongst others) wanted to take him on tour with them in the attempt to help him achieve commercial success but his mental problems always have been too strong to allow that to happen. If I can suggest something to you, it would be to rent the documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston, click here to see the trailer. Even if you're not a documentary lover (which I am), this movie will do something to you.

The Daniel Johnston we saw last night, is much older than the picture above. His hair is just shocks of white that hang over his thick, dark eyebrows. He's heavier now and his left arm shakes noticeably while he plays and sings; but his lyrics were just amazing and I was moved last night sitting in the balcony listening to him-- just as I was when I learned about his life, his struggles with depression, mania and the desire to be an artist while his family struggles to keep him happy, safe and on his medication which they know stifles his creativity. Believe me when I tell you that his music isn't everyone's cup of tea but there's just something that makes you want to listen to it, that makes you understand the sadness, the madness and the ultimate genius that is Daniel Johnston.

PS. Love you Babe! Happy 29th!

Four years ago we didn't even know each other on your birthday and then on Christmas Eve I was doing my final gift run and I passed the pet store in the mall. I heard my mother, my friends and even my mailman's voice saying to me, "You can't get a puppy from a pet store!" and I wasn't even planning on it. But then I saw you. A tiny little ball of pure chocolate velvet. I ran into the store and asked if I could see you. The large man grunted and said, "That one? That one hardly moves...". and then he handed you to me. You looked at me with impossibly beautiful jade green eyes and you cautiously sniffed my hair as I held you close to my face. I set you down on the ground and crouched to see you wobble on tiny little legs. You peed on my sneaker. The man who obviously hated dogs and more particularly you said to me, "Sorry lady, want me to take the runt from you?"

He reached to grab you and I instictively grabbed you off the ground and held you tightly against my chest. "I'll take her. Here's my card. Francesca and I are going to need a collar and a leash so that we can get out of the mall."
"Who the hell is Francesca?" the man inquired.
"This beautiful little girl" I replied nuzzling you with my eyes closed and probably looking like the biggest loser in the world.
"Hmmpf", was his reply and I think I heard him mutter about how I named you within minutes of knowing you. We left the store quickly. I held you tight against me as we weaved in and out of holiday shoppers, stopping only to allow small children to coo over you (it was the holiday season after all). We made it to Nordstrom and you were grunting like a little pig and so I let you waddle next to me as we closed in on the door that would provide us freedom from retail hell, when I noticed that you decided you needed to poo...and that you were already pooping on the floor! Leave it to you to wait until we're in the snobbiest store in the mall! But the women were gracious and they cleaned it up and played with you, even though I insisted on doing it. I scooped you up one more time and got us to the car. Your tiny snores made me giggle the whole way home.

The next day our lives were turned upside down. I came home from work and you were listing in your crate. I pulled you out of it and mucus was streaming out of every orrifice (not a very good look for you baby) and you were breathing so weakly. I called the vet in a panic. She told me that it was just "new puppy jitters" and that perhaps you just had a cold. I tried to explain. Then I just got pissed. I told the vet she could explain it to me when I got there. I tucked you into my coat and pressed you against my favorite sweater...your snot stained it somehow, it doesn't matter now and it didn't matter then. Racing to the office, they took one look at you and said gravely, "Take her to the emergency room, your puppy is on death's door!" Not exactly the words I wanted to hear, but as tears poured down my face I vowed to make you better.

Long story short, you nearly died of pneumonia that night. You see, you weren't a runt, you weren't lazy either...the fucking pet store hadn't taken care of you my sweet. Nineteen days in the animal emergency medical center later (several of those days you were in a oxygen tent...I had a Bubble Puppy!) I picked you up healthy as can be. Sure I had a brand new credit card that strictly held only your medical bills but I had you back, safe and sound.

They told me, "I'm sorry we had to give your Lab these medications that might possibly stunt her growth, so she's most likely not going to be very big..." and then they trailed off. I smiled and looked at your tiny little mug, so precious, so absolutely loving and said, "It's ok. Francesca...hmm, that's a big girl's name huh? Ummmm...." looking at you and trying to figure out if I should rename you, "Frankie...Frankie! and I are going to be just fine."

And we have been. Thank you for singing "Blue Christmas" whenever Elvis does, thank you for alerting me whenever the fire sirens go off, even at 4am. It's always better safe than sorry. Thank you for whining/crying at the door when I come home and showing me that you love me so much. Thank you for wearing the skull and crossbone shirt with the rhinestones that I know that you're not quite a fan of. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for being my Cranky Frankie.

Love you baby! Happy fourth birthday my beautiful little dog. You make our lives a little nicer just having you around.

Love,
Mom and Dad

I go to gas up my car as I am preparing to head to Harrisburg to celebrate my roommate from college's 30th birthday (How'd we get so old??) Turn the key and nothing. nada. zip. I have a dead battery. I wish you could watch me twiddle my thumbs waiting for AAA to come. Wooo! Here's hoping the evening now goes without a hitch!

But I did get her the cutest bangle bracelets from Swarovski...two skinny ones like this, and one thicker one. I know she's going to love them...because I love them!

I can't even do justice to my birthday party in a post...I just can't. I will say that John has an awesome sense of detail...there were pirate flags EVERYWHERE, the cups had the Jolly Roger on them, there were skull napkins, pirate balloons and everything! I felt very loved and very 30...everyone had to make sure to put that on my cards! (Grrr, jerks! ha ha). My mom provided us with tasty eats and everyone else provided me with enough liquor and beer to ensure the fact that I didn't get out of bed until 3pm the next day. And the gifts?? The gifts were as out there as I am... I got a gong for my birthday. A gong?!? John, however, pampered me and took me to the mall where I purchased all the makeup I could possibly want and I had it applied while he watched on so that I looked phenomenal before my party. He's fantastic.


Moving on...

Last night was my BCT meeting (bitches coming together) with all my friends from work. I highly suggest you start a chapter yourselves, I will allow this, since I am a founding member of something that could sweep the nation (or it could just remain the 10 of us, which is just as fine too). The theme last night was a holdover...it was Mardi Gras (since two of the girls actually went this year). We chowed on jumbalia, red beans and rice, king cake and pralines. Mmmmm. Our typical conversations revolve around work gossip and speculation, discussing what sluts/whore/innocents we are or were, husbands/boyfriends/hot boys, busting on each other, and lots and lots of laughing. Gossip was a little light last night because most of our conversations revolved around birthing babies. This was due in part to the fact that two of our own recently did just that. The things I learned last night should be illegal and should not be shared with future potential mothers. I swear I had nightmares. Like an ostrich, from now on, I am declaring that ignorance is bliss.

Moving on yet again...

My dog at my dinner tonight. Never in my life have I been so angry with her and never in my life has she ever done this. Grrrrr. So. Hungry.


Sorry for the shitty post, I will try and think of something creative for tomorrow--- I just felt the need to babble tonight.

Can't post about my party yet...I'm so tired and brain dead from the fun. I will tell you a few things until tomorrow:

1. I have an awesome husband who throws fantastic parties.
2. I think I fell in love with rum punch.
3. You should never invite your mother to parties, she will invariably say, "Maybe you should slow down and play hostess?"...silly mom, it was my birthday, everyone knew their way around the house.
4. There are blackmail pictures everywhere.
5. I have awesome friends...
6. Particularly one friend who told me, "Well, now you're thirty, it's time to get knocked up!"
7. I should've taken off today, I'm SO TIRED...still.


More tomorrow, I hope...

Today's the day! At 5:39 this evening, I will turn 30. Now, much to prepare for before then...so many pirate banners to hang, booze to buy and drink.

I will be back!

PS. Sign of maturity?? I didn't go to the bars last night because I didn't want to be hung over for my party, knowing that I would've received 100's of unsolicited bdays shots...instead I went out to dinner with Johnny and somehow got drunk on two beers--whaaa?!?

PPS. Sign I'm not too mature? I just finished my first birthday beer...it's 9:19 am...according to John, this beer is to take the sting off the fact that I have to decorate for my "surprise" party.

I have a problem (ok, I have many problems, but who's counting?). My birthday is no less than three days away. Yes, the big 3-0 in three days. However, that's not the problem. The problem lies in the fact that when people ask me what I want for my birthday, I just don't know what to ask for! And honestly? I don't think it's fair. I don't ask people what they want...I snoop around, watch them closely, I stalk them like a serial killer to find out exactly what they need to make them happy.

My mom is at her wits end because she's been asking me since January what I want for my birthday and even though she knows me better than anyone else in the world, she is a horrible gift giver, so I appreciate her repetitive questioning. On numerous occasions she has said, "My baby's turning 30, we need to get you something special!" I asked for a gym membership because my ass is spreading like the ocean floor but I got a lukewarm response to that, according to my mom I won't be able to look at that and say, "My mom gave this to me on my 30th birthday". I figured I could turn around and see less of my ass and think, "Thanks Mom, you saved me from larger jeans!" Oooook...I'm getting a pirate party so now I'm at a loss as to what else I could want, but I feel like I should capitalize on this...never say I'm not greedy!!

I turn it upon you, dear friends and strangers on the Internets, what should I ask for? I'm going to scour the internet and make a post that goes like this: I want this (picture) and this (picture) and I really, really want this! (picture)...if I have time.

Whoo! My birthday is Saturday! and you know something? I'm not going to let the fact that I'm turning 30 ruin the fact that I love my birthday. And you know something else? It appears that I am having an awesome pirate surprise party!

Ask me how I know this...

1) I found out a little from my mom who a little slip, but no where or when.

2) I found out a little more from John due to my prying, but he only added to what my mom said and nothing more...

3) I went out to lunch with John's family for John and his sister's "birthday lunch" and all was revealed! His sister didn't know it was a secret!!!

I felt bad for her because she was mortified, and quite honestly, I've always been afraid that I'd be the one to do that to someone! All is well now though, at least I can be coaxed into wearing pants into the basement on Saturday!

The best part? There is a parrot pinata and (I think) eye patches for the guests. I can't wait!

Well these are a few of them...

Our gorgeous view of the Chrysler building, my roses, lots of pictures from Jekyll and Hyde--one of the best weekends ever.

Well, I loved when the muppets did it, so it seemed like an appropriate title. Here's a little recap of our weekend (which started a little early).

Thursday- I was still feeling under the weather with this lingering illness that would not disappear, it wasn't a big deal, I just couldn't breathe out of my nostrils. I dragged myself over to my mom's workplace (an enormous chain superstore) to pick up John's birthday present from her and to see if I could find any last minute gifts. I left with nearly empty hands, only with Mom's gift of money wrapped neatly in a card that looked like a black lab.

That night, I dosed up with some cold and flu medication and we headed off to thitwbar to celebrate with friends since I was whisking John away from everyone to celebrate in NYC. John was a trooper, he down pitchers of beer and a plethora of shots as if it were his 21st birthday. His mom came to help us celebrate and I could see in her eyes that she wasn't particularly pleased that I was getting him so sloshed but, I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying himself, and hey, you'll never be 28 again, right? Again, we brought our friends home with us and continued the party in the basement. Eventually, we remembered that we had to drive the next day so we finally trudged upstairs to sleep.

Friday- John's actual birthday! I attempted to cure birthday hangover with birthday sex! It didn't cure anything but it was a nice start to the day, and with the money I was spending on the weekend, it was the only gift I could give him. Sometimes I'm so selfless, so giving, I even amaze myself (ha ha). We quickly packed a bag, kissed our dogbaby goodbye (left in the tender loving hands of E and T to take care of for the weekend) and headed out on the road...only after we stopped for some greasy fast food--phase two in my attempt to cure us.

It seemed like New York was a million miles away but when we pulled up to our hotel, it was all worth it. We checked in and oohed and ahhed over our view from our balcony. I couldn't have planned it better, from our room we had a breathtaking view of the Chrysler building (pictures to follow when we eventually unpack the car). After resting, recuperating and again performing resuccitative sex, we went out to dinner to celebrate John's birth. We set out on the streets as tourists, looking up at the tall buildings, laughing, pointing out landmarks and enjoying the whipping winds of the city. With no idea where we wanted to go, we just wandered until our faces were numb and our ears were pink and burning. Ultimately, we ended up at the Playwright and had dinner and martinis. After we filled our bellies we walked around a little more but then decided to head back to the hotel to rest up for our next day. Truly, celebrating takes it out of you.

Saturday- We slept in, rolled around in our king size bed, basked in the glory of having two different kinds of HBO (when you're just starting out in marriage, you can't really afford the fancy channels). Then on the agenda, more sightseeing! Walking arm in arm with large smiles splayed across our faces we went in and out of stores, I experienced my first Starbucks (not that there aren't any around the Cornfield, I just never went into one) and we spent most of the day walking around. Then it happened. We turned the corner and we saw a sign that said "$11.95 buffet with all you can drink for an hour". Then I saw the name of the place Jekyll and Hyde and I was sold! It was solid corny fun, plus no lunch can be complete without seeing Frankenstein's monster get resurrected.

We had lunch, we sat at the bar and then I decided to buy John flowers. But being more than a little tipsy, I didn't just walk across the street and buy them from a vendor--oh no that would be too easy-- I called someone to have them delivered (don't ask...I'm an idiot). So I walked back into the bar and said, "John, we're just going to have to stick around until 6:30" and that's when I was informed that we had two hours to sit around...(slap hand on forehead!)...we managed to entertain ourselves at the bar during that time, making friends with the bartender and inviting him to join us in celebratory Jameson shots. Right before John's flowers came, I came back from the bathroom surprised to find that in my seat there were two dozen pink roses...for me. Apparently, great minds think alike.

Finally, John's flowers arrived and they were hideous! It was a gross arrangement with a tacky vase (I had asked for just a bundle of roses so he could carry them around)...we ended up giving them to another patron of the restaurant so that we could walk home unencumbered. Hey, it was a good idea in theory!

So that was most our weekend...oh except for the little matter of being certain that I was pregnant while incredibly drunk--let me clarify, I didn't think I was pregnant before I was drunk or I wouldn't have been drinking. This certainty/drunkeness caused me to ask the front desk to get me a pregnancy test (Hey the W's motto was Whatever. Whenever, that applied right?). Guess what? I'm not pregnant, but I am embarassing!!!

I know I had a great time, I wish there had been more time to see and do more things and of course, I am sad that the Evil Dead closed the weekend before we got up to see it, so now I have to fight for my money back. I believe I accomplished my goal, however, and that was to have a special weekend with the birthday boy.

...and the winner of the best new wife eva is...ME! Like you didn't know I was going to say that in the first place. Seriously though, I casually asked John what he wanted to do for his birthday next month because at first I was going to plan something all stealthy-like. Even though his birthday isn't until the end of February, planning birthdays is something I enjoy and obsess over. Because of this, I spent countless days frowning at the computer, typing furiously and trying to find something "unusual", "exciting" and "cool" on Google to do for his bday. Unfortunately, the shemale that kept turning up in my searches wasn't exactly "the exciting surprise" what I was thinking about.

Ideas that were nixed (besides Shaundra the Shemale):
1. Huge surprise party at the local VFW. Pros: it's pretty cheap to rent out, it's right by our house for easy drunken John unloading, all of our friends could come and it could be a lot of fun. Cons: It's the local VFW, I think I could do something with a little more class than a kegger up the street from our house.

2. Go to Mexico for a four day weekend: sure we'd have to go the week before his birthday, but in every life there must be a little sacrifice, or so I'm told. Pros: Warmth, sun, margaritas, sand, tan lines Cons: John doesn't have a passport and President Bush is an idiot.

3. Go to Atlantic City and pretend we're high rollers for the weekend: Pros: fun, intimate little weekend in a fun town. Cons: Neither of us are really big gamblers and we wouldn't really do much high rolling. PRO: I probably would've gotten rolled on the bed quite a bit if I did this option! Con: It's cold and sad when you go to the beach but can't go into the water in February.

I couldn't think of what to do for him, so I gave up the stealth factor and sent him a very straight forward email, "What do you want to do for your birthday?" because I didn't know if he wanted a wild party, I didn't know if he just wanted to spend it with me, or with his family or with the Pope...I just wasn't sure about any of this--although, I had a niggling feeling that he didn't want to spend his birthday with the Pope; maybe the old Pope but not the scary new one. He looks like the Emperor from Star Wars. So instead of digressing about the Old Pope/New Pope controversy...let me just say, that asking John what he wanted to do for his birthday was the best thing I could've done, because I would've never thought of this:

He wants to go to NYC to see Evil Dead: The Musical. As the wonderful person that I am (can I say that? I think definitively that I can...) I called some woman in New York and inquired about tickets for the particular Febuary weekend. I had to fight with the woman about the fact that "Yes, indeed I DO want tickets located in the "splatter zone!"" For those of you unfamiliar with this musical, blood flies (splatters if you will) onto the audience members in the first few rows of the theater house, very similar to the ye ol' Gallagher comedy shows...except with blood, not with watermelons.

To top off our weekend and to make us feel like true bonafide married adult people (weird that I'm turning 30 and I don't feel like an adult quite yet),I checked us into the W hotel for the weekend. I think that they will truly embrace us when we return home from a night at the "theatre" drenched in fake blood. Oh wait, who am I kidding, this is NYC...no one will even notice.

On the bright side, for the amount of money I am spending on two nights in the city that never sleeps I make a prediction that John will not be sleeping either . This is because no one rides for free. I will be making him work off his share of the room in sex. I may even buy him dinner first to seal the deal, because then he'll have to put out. Ain't love grand?

So, to start. My whole body hurts. Like twist me into a pretzel hurts, that's how I feel-but not in a good way. Why you ask? (Aww so kind...so kind), because I went back to the gym after a hiatus. I love the gym, I'm one of those weird people, however, I joined this gym last year that I absolutely loathe...which causes me to skip out on it...which causes me to complain about becoming mushy...to well, actually becoming a tad bit mushy. Hopefully, we caught it in time and with a proper diet (meaning no more good beer, only lite) and LOTS of exercise, I should be back to normal by mid January. Keep me motivated people, send me pictures of the doughboy, your obese next door neighbor, whomever!! ha ha. I'm really only kidding, 10 lbs and I'll be fine but it's not like I'm rolling down the street (yet). Oh and I'm guessing about the 10 lbs because I don't own (nor can I ever, own a scale).

In other news. I had another Matty run in last night. T and I went to a friend's bday party and then to thitwbar. Matty was there again with Jodie. Matt and I said our hellos and then I went over to my bar stool. E was there too. Now this is where it gets bad...If I had a contents label it would say, "Now with more fat...and evilness." Here's what happened. E likes me...really likes me. We kissed two weeks ago and I've been avoiding being alone with him since then because he wants to "talk" about it--thank goodness it wasn't like last year, because I would've slept with him and we would've had a world summit about it or something. So anyways...

E sits next to me, starts grabbing my arm and doing all kinds of playful flirty things. I see out of the corner of my eye Matty staring at me. Now, a typical girl would feed into this right? They'd flirt with E and casually glance over at Matty...not me. I didn't want to burn my bridges with Matty. I'm hoping to blame this on the shock that Matt's spending every waking moment with Jodie all because she answered the damn phone last Tuesday. When I'm sober, I understand how assinine I was, how stupid he is and how skanky the three of us seem...but when I'm drunk (and this is where I need help), all I'm concerned about is how I'm going to win Matty away from her.

Even though I'm evil and an asshole...and drunk enough to explain myself to E (which I thought might've been worse) he still played me songs on the jukebox that I wanted to hear and he played me and T's "love" song..."Circle" and sang it with us. E's not a bad guy, but I know that he's not the guy for me even when it has absolutely nothing to do with the young Matty esquire. E just tends not to listen to me.

My highlight of the night though might've been when Jodie asked Matty, "Can we leave?" and he said, "Why? We both still have beers." and she replied/nodded at me (even though I did nothing more than say hi to him), "That girl's here." He replied, "M? What are you worried about her for? We've been friends a lot longer than you and I have known each other..." and her response that would've been golden had he not gone home with her, "Yeah that's only one of the things that I'm worried about between you and her."

It's getting a little dangerous how much I'm enjoying discord. It might be really, really bad.