9:57 pm March 10, 2012Ain’t no party like a SuzyG party…
Last Thursday, I turned… older.
*cough*36*cough*
In celebration of my going another year without dying, JonnyG called a local spa and made an appointment for a couple’s massage. We’ve both had massages before, but this was the first time we did it at the same time in the same room. It was heavenly… and a little more awkward than I thought it would be. Not because we were naked or anything, but because I wasn’t sure exactly how much to talk, if at all, and who it was okay to talk to. My massager-girl (I know, they liked to be call “therapists”, but that’s what I call the guy who prescribes me my happy drugs) talked a lot. Jon’s massager-girl barely talked at all. In fact, I was almost convinced she was mute until half-way through when she suddenly mumbled “roll over”. My massager-girl was tall and skinny and aggressive. She leaned her elbow into my butt cheek, ninja-focused 138 lbs of pressure into that one spot, and made me squawk like a jungle bird. Jon, meanwhile, was snoring on the other side of the room. But after an hour, we both oozed out of the spa, muscles gooey like softened butter, and it was the best birthday present ever.
From there we picked up my birthday pies. Because it was my birthday and I like pie a bajillion times better than cake. And on my birthday, people have to eat what I tell them to eat.
Behold, pies:
For my off-da-hook party, there were
balloons!
and
people!
(This is my mom’s husband, Jeff. He was tired when he first got to the party, but after forcing him to eat pie, he perked right up.)
(This is me trying to make my little brother eat some of my pie. We totally should be a print ad for Village Inn pie, right? He is adorable.)
and
Deacon performed a birthday interpretive dance for all of the guests!
(This is actually a dance he did at another occasion. But you get the idea.)
and
my little bro did an aloud reading from the best tweets of @rolldiggity!
(We laughed. Hard.)
and
we laughed some more at some funny little packs of gum!
I opened my gifts. One of the best was a rock with a Sharpie-drawn face and a top hat, from Zoe. The rock’s name is Doug.
Then everyone had a big, fat sugar crash… as illustrated in this photo of my mom and brother.
They are party animals. No, seriously. Look again.
Don’t worry if you missed out this year. Chances are I’ll live for another whole year and we can do it again when I turn *cough*37*cough*. Also, it has occurred to me that I only have four more years to knock everything off of my 40 Before 40 list. Yikes!
For this, I will need more pie…
