Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

rise up with fists

I think I'm getting weirder in my old age - or if not weirder, crankier. I think I've mentioned before that I'm looking forward to being an old lady, as it will allow me to audition for old lady movie rolls and wear and say whatever I want. Turns out I'm not necessarily waiting for oldness.

After the slumber party on Saturday night, I informed the boy that he'd be taking me to dinner and a movie, with both the restaurant and movie being my choice - unless of course I didn't feel like making the choice, in which case he had to choose but he had better choose something I would have chosen myself if I'd been able to choose.

The whole movie thing didn't work out, because Avatar is three freaking hours long. Does the Hollywood industrial complex not appreciate the subtleties of my bladder size? Particularly when, while in birthday princess mode, I insist on having a drink or two beforehand? We skipped it in favor of going round most of our favorite Boulder restaurants and eating whatever I felt like eating at each place.

Which was apparently queso fundido, fried pickles (how have I not eaten fried pickles before? That shit is GENIUS), and coconut carrot soup.

And at every place, I confidently and àpropos of nothing informed our server that it was my birthday. Like an awesome old lady would. It totally earned me a free dessert. When I'm an old lady, my life is going to be nothing but free desserts.

Also, today I'm dressed like a gypsy. Because I felt like it.

Gypsy dressing.

the tiniest sprinter is a party pooper

you say it's your birthday