// Guess who has two thumbs and booked an ocean-front vacation?//

In a fucking castle on the beach.

King, luxury deluxe suite.

With her lover.

THIS GIRL, RIGHT HERE.

// Summary of the Birthday Epic://

Because even if I explain, you couldn’t understand.

The plan was to all meet at Carraba’s, a fancy Italian restaurant in town.  Drink sangria, eat fab food, sally forth to a bar called “Shenanigans” close by.

Carraba’s had said over the phone a week before that they don’t take reservations.  When we got there, the [BITCH] host gave us a disgusted look and said of course they don’t do reservations- they do “call-aheads.”  Up to two weeks in advance.  ….so….you mean a fucking reservation, right?

She gave us a buzzer and told us (at 6:30) that our party of anticipated 10 would be seated at 8 and she’d buzz us.

People got there for what we expected was 7 PM dinner.  Bill arrived and happened to have Bacardi in his trunk, and there was a Target (for mixer) within walking distance.  We all took turns going to his car for Trunk Drank (tm), me in a big ruffled dress because fuck yeah.

At 8:10 we went back in to ask what the status was, now 14 instead of 10.  She told us angrily we were supposed to tell her when everyone arrived (then why’d we get the buzzer…?) and that now with 4 more people, we wouldn’t be seated.

Just before shit got real and I cut a bitch, the owner happened by and recognizes my fabulous lady friend Christina.  Cue Christina being epic and getting us seated within the next 15 minutes.  The owner was awesome, but still:  fuck a bitch.

Cue massive amounts of Sangria and excellent food.

After changing from my dress to bar clothes in the back of Christina’s car, it was time to hit the bar…which had a cover and a shit cover band playing ’90s songs not at all well.

So we called an audible and went to the bar across the street from Joe’s and my apartment.

This included:

+ Cigar smoking.

+Stealing a pack of cigarettes someone left outside.  Oops.

+Shots.  And shots.  And shots.

+Bill throwing up on the bar, in his pitcher of beer, and a little on me.  NBD.

+Giving the pitcher of beer/vomit to some frat assholes that were trying to sloppily hit on me.  Watching them drink.  Sweet, sweet justice.  (I’m almost not this much of a cunt sober.  …almost.)

+Final round of shots and Russian birthday song from Russian-speaking friend.

+MASSIVE HANGOVER SUNDAY NOT-SO-FUNDAY.

WORTH IT.

I regret nothing.  That was the best goddamned birthday celebration yet.  Hopefully celebrating Year 25 doesn’t actually kill me next year.

// Went on a following quest…//

I need more quality blogs in my life.  I’m not afforded the opportunity to peruse Tumblr often anymore, so I need to make it count.

In light of that, here’s my dress, what I call, “The Fandango,” which I will be wearing during my birthday celebration this weekend::

Aaand that’s all, folks.

[SPOILER ALERT:  I will be wasted this weekend.  Join in.]