And The Shrine will grow . . .
Happy Birthday Eve to me! If we count Christmas Eve as part of the holiday, then the same rule applies to my birthday. And yes, I just equated the birth of our Lord and Savior to my own. The similarities are amazing. His mother's name was Mary; my mother's middle name was Marie. Pocatello, Idaho is often referred to as the Bethlehem of the West. I like chocolate; we commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus with chocolate eggs. Jesus walked on water; I've been known to go swimming. Jesus had twelve disciples; I have at least twelve friends. Maybe. Jesus turned water into wine; I prefer wine to water. And the perfection thing, but that's just a given.
So I better finish this post before God smites me.
I'm back in Pullman, and my cat is still missing. I'm not too worried still, since it took her a bit to return last time, too. I think she's afraid to come back, since the abusive ass-hat has moved back in next door to me. The Fat Skirt doesn't like yelling, and all he does is yell. Oh, and watch TV topless. Sex. Ay.
Birthday news: the birthday celebrations have already begun. I had my birthday dinner with my family the other night. More importantly (because I'm all about the materialistic attitude of America), I got my presents. In recognition of my early onset, my dad got me a PDA. So watch out for me being about as yuppie as I can get with that bad boy. In recognition of my love for Elvis, I got a very large purse with a pink Cadillac on it. This might fall into the same category as the Marilyn Monroe purse. And I'm still not a purse person. I also received season two of Scrubs, in recognition of my great love for what used to be the best show on TV, before it jumped the shark. And finally, in recognition, of my *obsession* I received two Elvis documentaries. Allegedly, they were from my 19-month old nephews, but I've been shopping with those two and I don't think they are capable of picking out DVDs. Food off of shelves, yes. Presents for their favorite aunt, no. So thanks to Heather and David for those, really.
And I doubt I'm their favorite aunt since a) they see me twice a year b) I left the toys I bought for them at my house and c) they are 19-months old and incapable of making that kind of decision. But once I start buying them beer, cigarettes, and Playboys, I'm sure I'm in. Guess who never will be asked to baby-sit after that comment?
Anyways, things in Pullman are, well, Pullman-esque. Except, of course, for the fact that everyone is gearing up for the big party tomorrow. Damn, I do love my birthday. I already scored a free lunch today from Maryanne in recognition of this somber holiday. And with the promise of vodka and cheesecake tomorrow, I don't think things could get much better. Unless someone has cloned Elvis from 1958. And gift-wrapped him for my birthday. And by gift-wrapped, I mean just one big bow. And I'm going to end that there, before I go too far across that crazy line.
So I better finish this post before God smites me.
I'm back in Pullman, and my cat is still missing. I'm not too worried still, since it took her a bit to return last time, too. I think she's afraid to come back, since the abusive ass-hat has moved back in next door to me. The Fat Skirt doesn't like yelling, and all he does is yell. Oh, and watch TV topless. Sex. Ay.
Birthday news: the birthday celebrations have already begun. I had my birthday dinner with my family the other night. More importantly (because I'm all about the materialistic attitude of America), I got my presents. In recognition of my early onset, my dad got me a PDA. So watch out for me being about as yuppie as I can get with that bad boy. In recognition of my love for Elvis, I got a very large purse with a pink Cadillac on it. This might fall into the same category as the Marilyn Monroe purse. And I'm still not a purse person. I also received season two of Scrubs, in recognition of my great love for what used to be the best show on TV, before it jumped the shark. And finally, in recognition, of my *obsession* I received two Elvis documentaries. Allegedly, they were from my 19-month old nephews, but I've been shopping with those two and I don't think they are capable of picking out DVDs. Food off of shelves, yes. Presents for their favorite aunt, no. So thanks to Heather and David for those, really.
And I doubt I'm their favorite aunt since a) they see me twice a year b) I left the toys I bought for them at my house and c) they are 19-months old and incapable of making that kind of decision. But once I start buying them beer, cigarettes, and Playboys, I'm sure I'm in. Guess who never will be asked to baby-sit after that comment?
Anyways, things in Pullman are, well, Pullman-esque. Except, of course, for the fact that everyone is gearing up for the big party tomorrow. Damn, I do love my birthday. I already scored a free lunch today from Maryanne in recognition of this somber holiday. And with the promise of vodka and cheesecake tomorrow, I don't think things could get much better. Unless someone has cloned Elvis from 1958. And gift-wrapped him for my birthday. And by gift-wrapped, I mean just one big bow. And I'm going to end that there, before I go too far across that crazy line.
posted by Ace | 3:35 PM
2 Comments:
The boys really did "help" pick those out. I showed the DVD's to them and asked, "Should we get these for Aunt Ace?" and they both said, "Yeah."
Ah yes, Pocatello, "The Bethlehem of the West." Such an overused phrase, really. Happy Birthday.
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