12.24.06

I've had the best birthday weekend of my life. Much to my surprise.

Got home from work last Thursday, had no plans. Talked to D, Tank was on his way over and they were going out. He said he might call to see if I was interested in hanging with them.

That didn't sound promising, so I decided to take my own damn self out for a drink. (Grrrrrrr. I am the PMS queen.) Took a book ("Cruel Shoes" by Steve Martin) and my knitting. Ordered a drink, and found out the bartender's birthday was that very day. Wished her a happy birthday, and gave her one hell of a tip. Sat down, read my book, and started knitting.

Across the bar, some guy was playing the Sopranos' video game with great vigor. Next to me, a table of would-be entrepeneurs blithered about get-rich-quick schemes that sounded dicey.

The door blew open, and my friends Chris and Caroline walked in. Hugs all 'round. They got beers, and joined me. We talked about our business idea--no dicey-ness, thankyouverymuch--and my mobile rang.

It was D, asking where I was. I told him. He said that he and Tank would be there soon.

I went from feeling pissy and neglected, to feeling pretty damn good. Oh science, I'm a dweeb.

We drank and laughed for a while. Then D said that we had to get to bed, as the next day was starting early.

He'd told me that he'd planned something for my birthmas (and apologized for combining the two) a couple of weeks ago. So I knew something was happening, just not what or when.

We ended up at my place, because "it was closer." Hmph.

The next morning, he took me to a local day spa. And I got my very first, professional massage.

Oh science. It was lovely. Lovely. I can't believe I haven't been getting these...no, that's not true. I have a hard enough time convincing myself that it's not too self-indulgent to get a manicure every now and again.

I came out, stinking of eucalyptus from the steam room, and as tense as an al dente linguino.

We spent the rest of day, wandering around and talking. Went back to D's for a nap (highly recommend the birthday nap) and, uhm, annoying the neighbours. >) That evening, we went over to my friend Christy's piercing shop. She gave me a new bit of jewelry. I've got a ruby-red bit of sparkle for my nose piercing. It's lovely.

We took off for North Portland where we met up with Tank and his girl, Manda, and Tank's sister, Sara. Off for pizza, then out to celebrate. Yay!

Here's something that surprised me, I pre-empted the regular, guys-night-out: Bromance. I was duly humbled and flattered. D said it was a measure of my importance to them, that they'd forego Bromance.

Wandered over to the Speakeasy, where Josh and 'Cinda showed up. Chris and Caroline came by. Then Lahela and Jackie arrived. Never have I celebrated my birthday with that many people. Never.

Here's the awful part, I had two margaritas, and a shot of tequila--normally more than enough to make me stupid--and they had no effect. None.

Time to leave. It was past time to go to the Randy Slut. Through some miscommunication, Tank thought we said Chopsticks (a local Chinese restaurant/bar/karaoke spot) and we briefly stopped there to rescue him, his sister, and Manda.

Ahh. Finally. The Hut, which was as loud and a raucous as any birthday girl could desire. Especially a 42-nd birthday girl. The place was packed with tattooed, pierced, crazies. Loud rock blared from the jukebox. A whole line of drunken regulars lined up at the bar. My favourite pool player was tearing up the table. (His style of play can best be described as freaky coke-fiend spastic. It's great fun to watch as he winds up for another shot. Though it can be dangerous. He's got a penchant for launching the cueball.)

We ended up at the far end of the bar, and a helpful (and utterly smashed) Special Forces soldier found us some extra bar stools. Found out later that his name was Mike, and that he admired my boobs. I believe his exact words were, "Are they real?" followed with, "Can I touch 'em?" I demurred, even after my second shot of tequila. Thus proving that I am, actually, a lady.

Ahem.

A table opened up, and we made our way across the bar. It was next to the pool table, but Perilous Pete the Pool Player had finished for the evening. Just a bunch of PBR-swilling hipsters clustered around the pool table. It was fairly safe.

Then Tank bought me another shot of tequila. Folks, this was the one. This was the one that did me in.

Ooooh, I was drunk. But not sick, unhappy, drunk. Oh no. This was tipsy, unintentionally funny, jeez-I-never-do-this-so-no-one's-ever-seen-me-like-this drunk. I am happy to provide so many people with so much enjoyment.

The lights came up, and D shepherded me out to his truck. He handed me a bottle of water, and took me back to his place. I drank as much water as I could, took two ibuprofen, and fell into bed.

Woke the next morning and felt pretty okay. Hungry, belly a bit off, but nowhere near as horrible as I feared. Yay water!

I had a marvelous birthday--with all the tequila I could handle, and a bunch of friends to share it with.

I am the luckiest girl.

Happy chriskwasolyulekah!

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