Seventeen days, Love. You better get cracking. Just because I have five more years until I am Bonus' definition of old does not mean you are off the hook. Diamonds, a netbook, new kitchen sinks, a new sofa, new bedroom furniture, and a new wheel cover for the hooptie will suffice. Or you can just send me and Pandamom to New York in April. Take your pick. (Translation: I really would love to have picture of me wearing my green raincoat in Central Park. For your desk and all, of course.)
About my birthday party... You know I am not particularly fond of this type of surprise. Last time someone planned a surprise birthday party for me, I wound up with my face planted in my birthday cake. After breaking my nose four times, my nostril output is not what it used to be. I'm pretty sure that cake would stay up there. I'd hate to suffocate on my birthday.
A heads up would be lovely. Sooner would be better than later. The house is a complete disaster. I don't want dirty bathrooms or dishes in the sink if people are coming over. And you know that our child has a penchant for leaving underwear in the most unexpected places. It is just not necessary for anyone other than JMom or Kernsie to walk in on such sights. We don't want to scar our friends for life.
Plus, I bought a fantastic green sequined shirt for myself for my birthday; I need to know when to wear it. And I don't have the right boots or jewelry for it yet, so...
Oh yes, don't forget that the theme should somehow include the color GREEN or Ugly A$$ Dress or both. In which case, I have to wear my prom dress from my junior year with matching hat and gloves. You see, it is really important for you (or a friend of mine) to give me a strong hint in the right direction.
|Will I be wearing this black and gold vintage 1940's dress or my blingy new shirt or something else? |
Your guess is as good as mine.
|Don't ask me what I was thinking. Obviously, I wasn't.|