This picture was taken in one of those old photo booths the night of my surprise birthday party. Yes, my *surprise* party.
I won't tell you which one I am, but I'll give you a few clues: I don't have a scowl on my face, or a wandering eye, or gaping grin.
It's official. I have entered the 4th decade of life. I am 30. I can no longer truthfully tell the treadmill that I am 29 and weigh 115 pounds... cause now both would be a lie.
I'm not big on parties in general, so I had no idea that my Hubs and BFF had planned a surprise dinner party at one of my favorite spots in the East Village. I thought it was going to be a nice dinner with just my parents (by that I mean my dad and stepmom--- the last time I didn't clarify that my mom had a complete freakout on my comment board), but when we showed up there were 10 of my favorite people waiting for me! It was totally unexpected.
So, the best part of having a birthday party??? Is that I made out like bandit. Everyone gets you a present when you have a party. I never fully leveraged this fact in the past. And I didn't realize just how much I love presents. I made out with two gift cards to lululemon (my new "danger zone"), a gift card to the Apple store which I used to buy a new iPhone (the white one, woo!), a goregous 1890's vintage necklace, a facial, a massage, and a gift card to Cafe Luxembourg. See, I told you... bandit, right?
So anyway, I'm a bad bloggy friend. I know, I know. I haven't visited you all in a week and you have every right to be mad at me. Especially since I'm unemployed and perceivably have all the time in the world to be commenting on your posts like a fiend. So please accept my sincerest apology and know that I haven't forgotten you, nor do I love you any less than before.
And I have *so* much more to tell you... like how I am actually employable, how flirtation will get you anywhere in life, and how I can finally get rid of the muumuus in my closet. That last part was a lie... I don't own any muumuus.