Happy Birthday. To this blog. That's all the fanfare the blog gets because the important birthday is Guy's. He is no longer 42, or as we liked to call is, forty-tute. Now, he is forty-three-rific. Yes, we really are that dorky.
Poor Guy. His birthday was a bit of a bust. This morning, I had to get up and take the dogs to the vet. That meant he was left in the bed all by his lonesome with no Schmoopie to snuggle.
When I got home, we decided to kick our diet to the curb and go to Big Ed's for breakfast. We had big ole fluffy carb filled biscuits. He had an omelet, and I had country ham. After that, we went around the corner and picked out a new Anna Podris painting for our living room.
I know. It's his birthday, and we are buying paintings that I have wanted. Don't feel too sorry for him (yet). This weekend is Artsplosure, and he will pick out something from one of the artists showing there.
After the gallery, we came home, and he decided that he would go play golf while I taught. He picked out a golf course, loaded up his clubs, and headed out to whack some little white balls. In about an hour, he was home again. It had started raining. The course was closed. He played no golf. This is where you start feeling sorry for him.
He came inside the house and checked the answering machine. Papa had called. His truck was broken again, so he couldn't pick Lovely up from school and get the birthday cake from Carvel. Guy went up to get Lovely. When he and Lovely tried to pick up his cake, it wasn't ready. There were plain Fudgie the Whale cakes, but not the one that I ordered to have his name on it.
Dejected and disappointed, Guy arrived home and proceeded to play golf on the xbox. It seemed to placate him somewhat. Not even the endless stream of presents I gave him seemed to cheer him up. Of course, the endless stream of presents was all stuff from the dollar store, since we are going to shop for his real present this weekend. . .
I'm sidetracked. Here are some party shots:
Did you know that Martha Stewart has written a book about running your own successful company? Is it any surprise that since her advice includes a prison sentence, that I purchased this book in the dollar store?
Speaking of Martha, and I do so want to be like Martha, I cannot. decorate. cakes. I did try to spell out the words here, since Guy was so disappointed that they didn't have his cake especially for him. As you can see, poor Fudgie has been desecrated and harpooned at that.
I also added some spray coming out of the whale hole. It turned out quite nicely. Guy's favorite touch though, were the whale pellets I added coming out of the back end. I'm classy like that. Whale dookey. That's funny.
So all in all, I guess Guy had a pretty good birthday. His dad didn't get to come to dinner because of his stupid truck, but Boo and Pilot were here, and that always makes things brighter. We had some jambalaya and cornbread, watched Grey's Anatomy, and then made our brains hurt while helping Lovely with her math homework.
The End.
Kidding. Here's where the celebration started. Last night I gave him an early present.
I think he likes it!
Pink is a good color for him
In case we weren't sure about the two pink lines
And the most perfect card I've ever found in my life.
I'm leaving it at that for tonight. I mean really. What more can I say after that fantastic card?
