Well, well.

What was I thinking? 27 is SOOOO much better than 26. Seriously. I no longer put my pants on one leg at a time; I put them on backwards now.

I had a great weekend, a great birthday, a great start of a whole new year filled with promises of success and wealth and fame and... well, okay. It's a new year, anyway. Yay!

Would you like a breakdown of the festivities? I thought so.

Friday night I did nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. I remember making dinner, maybe reading a book, perhaps watching TV, for sure falling asleep on the couch with my mouth open. Brad woke me and sent me off to bed at 11 o'clock, I think. I'm such a rock star.

Saturday morning I woke up bright and early to the prettiest, pinkest tulips on my desk and scattered throughout the kitchen and living room. My mom had sent a box full of presents, which Brad had set up in a cute present formation on the kitchen counter, because he knows that secretly I want my birthday to be like one big visit from Santa Claus, except all for me me me me ME, and not anyone else. (That's just secretly, y'all/ya'll. I'm really very non-materialistic and non-"the-universe-only-spins-around-me-once-a-year-damnit", on the outside.)

I ripped through all the gifts in about 4 minutes flat, which included books, jewelry, a sweater set, a framed picture of my mother in a Glamour Shot pose, a few mini-bottles, a set of spices from the Pampered Chef, and my favorite gift of all... cash money. Hooray.

I then called my parents, coincidentally right around 9:28 a.m., the exact time of my birth 27 years ago. My mother proceeded to tell me the story of the night I was born, just as she does every year. It's not exciting enough to relay here, it really just involves hospitals, dilating, pushing, birthing. Lucy. She is born. The End.

After the ritual storytelling of my birth, I put on the workout gear and headed for Town Lake trails, my new favorite pastime. Have I mentioned how the trail is half a mile from our house? Have I? It's so cool. I walked from our house to the Congress Avenue people bridge, all the way back to the Mopac people bridge, and then home. It took me two hours and cost me 4 blisters, but it was worth it. Such pretty spring weather, so many cute dogs.

Later in the afternoon I met my younger sister Andreia at Barnes & Stupid, where we had a very nice talk about life and stuff, and also she gave me flowers. Score on the flowers. I purchased Stephen King's On Writing, a nice little memoir of which I am about halfway through, and hope will spur me to create my own masterpieces. Then I headed home to see Brad's shining face, and he whisked me away to Trudy's, where I had the dinner that can legally only be had once a year: a fried stuffed avocado, people. Stuffed with chicken, covered in cheese. And then, in lieu of birthday cake: a brownie covered in Amy's Mexican Vanilla, shared with Brad. Yum. And also, ouch.

I forgot to mention Brad's presents for me. Because he is the best, he got us tickets to see Wilco, as well as a few other things. Let's just say that when your boyfriend makes you a mix CD that includes Millionaire, Longwave, John Hiatt, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Britney Spears, Kylie Minogue, Justin Timberlake, The Darkness, Chingy, The Strokes, Ryan Adams, and New Kids on the Block (singing both Happy Birthday and I'll Be Loving You 4Ever) - all on the same disc - that's when you know he really understands you.

Later that evening, after an hour spent lying on our respective couches, moaning and apologizing to our digestive tracks, Brad and I met up with a big group of friends at Sidekicks, a club close to our house. Much fun and debauchery was had, of which I shall not speak of the details here. Except to say, it is possible that I danced with many random people, including the guys that the club pays to dance around in their boxer briefs on top of pedestals. It's possible, but it wasn't me. I swear it. She only looked like me.

And... fast forward to Sunday, which was spent with the blinds closed, the TV on low, with a big bottle of aspirin and bigger bottle of water, and also with several exclamations of "Oh yeah, this is why we quit going out, remember?" and "I am WAY too old for this now." I think many of my out-of-town friends may have called to wish me a happy birthday. I promise that I will be calling them back this very week. Really. You wouldn't have wanted to talk to me then anyway. Promise.

All in all, it was fun. I heart birthdays. I heart 27. It will be a happy year, I think.

Lucy loves you |