I survived!

It's been a long 4 days, but I survived! The party was a success - my brother was suspicious, but surprised...especially by the people who traveled from so far away to be here and celebrate him. It wasn't without its awkwardness...such as the fact that his gf and my co-host never sat down to eat the entire time. WTF is that? And that "Marilyn Monroe" came to present the birthday cake and to "sing" Happy Birthday. Except the music wouldn't play loud enough, and Marilyn wasn't blonde, nor white. Apparently in the afterlife, you tan and get a dye job. There's hope for me yet!

But the food was great, the company was wonderful, I managed to NOT make an ass of myself when I gave my "Little Sister" speech, and the cake was to DIE for. I have a standing order for one for my 30th birthday in a year and a half (excuse me while I go heave...18 months is NOT a long time...good GOD).

I am quite happy to be home alone with My Monster, though. It was nice while the company lasted, but holy Christ, I am not cut out to be a hostess. Because I guess I really don't care enough :) I made sure I had decaf coffee...I think that should have been sufficient. The fact that they needed breakfast too? That's crap. I don't eat breakfast, and neither should you!

Also, I'm not a taxi, no matter how much you would like me to be. So when I'm expected to cart your ass around (and your friends!), but not be able to have my own plans...I get annoyed. No, I don't want to hang out with your friends who are judging me based on the fact that 1) I lived in Allston/Brighton amongst COLLEGE STUDENTS, 2) I moved to Malden where "It's really not that safe..." and 3) I don't have a significant other to fawn all over me - yup, we dated for two years, and then he dumped me like the jerkface that he is. And yes, I had to tell the story. Thanks.

And I did all of this with toes that were recently burned with acid (on purpose). There were times where the tootsies just hurt, and I wanted to rip my shoes off...but I was able to hold it together. As nice as it was to have some people concerned, I felt like an ass saying: Oh, I had ingrown toenails. That is DEAD SEXY. At least the next surgery (check me around April/May) will be more glamorous...lob off part of that bone, and shove it back in place! Yes! Out of work for a while? Indeedy do! Sympathy and concern then? Sign me up!

All in all, I'm excited that it was a great party. And I am more excited that my family that I never get to see got to make it up. And I got to meet the triplets! They're lucky I didn't swipe Emma and take her home with me. Because I wanted to. And then my mom could shut up about giving her an Emma of her very own.

What a rude awakening!

At 6:13 am, or 7:13 am, or something like that (Damn daylight savings time's got me all messed up), a knock on my door. Casey immediately springs into guard dog action (who knew???), and starts yipping at the door. I sleepily grab my bathrobe, pray to God that my make up that I slept in isn't all over my face (that'll teach me!), and saunter over to the living room.

I open the door partly (which, Casey, true to character, now runs away, hiding behind a throw pillow on the couch), and am greeted by a man in a uniform asking: Miss, are you OK?

"Yes..." I reply, as I realize it's Police. At this moment, having dealt with Jakob and the fire, and still mostly sleeping, I immediately conjure up the idea that somehow the house is on fire, and I need to get out - I start thinking of where Casey's leash is, where my shoes are, and my cell phone. Then I realize - firefighter = fire, not police. A new realization hits me - what the EFF is going on?

"Okay, good. The guy upstairs called us to report that someone was trying to break down the doors in the house, and we wanted to check to see if you are okay."

"Oh my God! Yes, I'm okay...I haven't heard anything..." I start to feel sick...thankfully Casey decides this is a good time to be brave and come sit on my feet. Love her.

"Good to know, we're just going to walk around and check things out. Glad you're okay...keep your doors locked, just in case...sorry to wake you."

"It's quite okay, thank you..." I reply as I start to realize 1) HOLY CRAP! 2) He's really cute... and 3) well...I'm up now.

A few hours later, as I literally JUST get out of the shower, there's another knock on my other door. Awesome. Casey goes into guard dog mode again, barking in her little voice at the new knocker...

I throw my bathrobe on, hair in towel, barely dried off...and open the door. Casey again runs to hide, this time under one of the kitchen chairs. It's my upstairs neighbor, and the other girl who lives on my floor. He just wanted to touch base with us to let us know what had happened, and to remind us to keep all the doors locked.

While I appreciated his concern, I didn't appreciate the tone of which he reminded us to lock the doors...no kidding. I lock my door ALL the time. Even if I'm just going to check my mail! Remember? I'm the girl who locked herself out! Don't accuse me, Slappy.

And with that, I'm getting the hell out of dodge.

Here we are!

So, I've decided that I should keep a blog. Why? Because so many random, yet awesome (or at least I think so) things happen to me/pop into my head that I feel the need to share.

And here we are.

Having said that, I have nothing new, awesome, or exciting to share. Except that it's Halloween, and I am doing nothing Halloween related. I blame the lack of excitement this year on two things: 1) Casey (The Monster Dog) hasn't been feeling well, and I have been wrapped up in that and 2) I'm helping throw my brother's 50th birthday party next weekend; it's turning into a nightmare.

I have, however, learned a valuable lesson in both of these scenarios: You cannot control everything. I cannot make Casey feel better (especially after she barfs up the prednisone) and I cannot make my fellow party throwers see logic and suddenly have taste. But life goes on. Casey will live (new meds! No puking!), and the party will be enjoyed by all...even if it's at the expense of good taste.