Yesterday Spencer and Chrissy threw me a little birthday get-together. For some reason I didn't have the presence of mind to get a picture of the chocolate orange cheesecake-like goo that Spencer made. It was DELICIOUS.
This is not a picture of cheesecake.
Somehow - and I'm pretty sure this is Chrissy's fault - we ended up reading stories Spencer wrote as a child. You guys, they featured a land octopus, the word "backguns," and a cowboy named Billy who had killed hundreds of indians and wolves by 1978.
Lisa reads. Audrey peeks. Peek, Audrey, peek!
Meanwhile, San* sits by, blissfully ignorant, while Keffy's eyes begin to glow red with inner fire, which had burned away his soul years ago.
He must have gotten to San when we weren't looking. Oh, San, we mourn thee.
Nathan does the knee squeeze while Dani simultaneously pulls the yawn-and-stretch maneuver. They're hoping to take coordinated groping to the Olympics in 2012.
Spencer, ever the critic, thumbs his nose at his own work, calling his six-year-old self "a sanctimonious hack." Way harsh, Spencer.
Then today I saw Adam by myself (derivative, abundantly cliched; not recommended), had a mocha and a cinnamon roll, then Dani and Nathan took me to see District 9 (different, interesting, bloody, and a little bit funny; recommended, if you can take gore).
I'm going to count it as a win, though I sadly did NOT get to see a fortune teller or a psychic. Where are they all hiding? Bellingham seems like the kind of place that would have them in abundance.
And now I'm going to have tea to aid in my valiant effort of not coughing up a lung. There are medals for that, right?
*I can't get "San" to umlaut properly. What? That's totally a verb.
13 comments:
Happy Birthday!!
Also the lack of pictures of cheesecake goo is probably not a loss to the blog, because while it does sound delicious, it doe not sound like the most photogenic of deserts.
I am a fake internet psychic is that helps you at all.
The hot cheesy cakey birthday goo was pretty awesome, but I wrote all over the recipe the words REFRIGERATE OVERNIGHT and thus it shall not goo again.
That sentence was brought to you by Jedi Master Yoda.
Glad you had a happy birthday.
And I am a wannabe fake internet psychic who gladly does tarot readings for friends anytime they're in town if that helps too.
I can't appreciate this post if there is no picture of me.
Sabayon - It actually looked pretty good before we cut into it; all marbled cheesecake deliciousness. AAAAND now I want some. Great.
Spencer - How about you make another one when I come back? You know, just to make sure you have the recipe down? This time do blackberry lemon. It's seasonal!
Holly - I had a great time getting my cards read when I was in town. Hopefully we can do it again!
Chrissy - I can't appreciate it either. This post gets my lowest rating: half a star and chewed gum covered in cat hair.
Happy birthday. Even though you didn't invite me to the party.
Mr. Fob - Spencer did all the inviting. Go harass him on his blog.
Happy birthday! Oh wait, I already told you that. I hate commenting on your posts later because I miss the big roll call hollaback that you do. On the other hand, I'm going to keep commenting after that so I get my OWN comment, like I DESERVE. I'm not sure who I just told off, but TAKE THAT.
Oh, and your word verification word is 'nonsuk.' Heh.
canihelpyousir - I'm not sure either. You're either telling me off or telling yourself off. Probably yourself, is my guess, since you really deserve a telling off more than I do. Also, HOLLABACK!
I am SO-OOOO totally offended at your lack of political correctness. Are Indians not good enough to be capitalized? What a jerk! If you're going to kill thousands of Injuns, do it respectfully, please.
Mel - Talk to Spence; he's the one writing about killing them, the heartless, offensive 7-year-old SOB.
Reading all these is more fun than I've had in a week. (It's been a stressful week.)
Mom - Please, enjoy. Sorry about your week.
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