The Birthday Snob

Happy Friday, ya'll! And more importantly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Today I am 29 years young. As is per usual,  such thing as a calm, no chaos week doesn't exist in my life and I haven't a spare moment to blog this week.

BUT I've been thinking about all the things I want to blog about. That counts right? Coming up, expect to see some goals for the next year, some reflections on my 20s, and why I think it's difficult to make friends over 30. Oh, and I've got another "To the" brewing, so stay tuned.

It's been a good birthday week. Monday, my husband surprised me with a Kindle Fire and a sweet note. Tuesday, my favorite girls took me to a delicious birthday dinner at RPM. (By dinner I mean 3 bottles of wine + 1 glass each, and some light plates. Oops.) I had lunch and drinks with friends last night, and this morning, my co-workers surprised me with donuts and Champs! They know the way to my heart. For reals.

This afternoon, we are headed to Seattle. That's right. For "the race." Ya'll, I saw the course for this bitch. It's 11 miles long, and there are 20 obstacles, many of which involve mud and jumping into frigid bodies of water and smoking holes. I mean, I just really hope after this is all said and done, I am like "That just happened. I just did that." Wish me luck.

Anyway, not much time  to write, but I just wanted to share this little gem of a photo with you:

 

That's right. That's me. I have no idea how old I am turning in this photo. I'm going to guess 6 or 7 based on the hideousness that is the couch I'm sitting on. That has to be from the 80s. 

In any case, so many things are amazing in this picture. First off: the couch. Second, who braided my hair this way? My mom (God love her) sure as heck didn't. I mean, I did own one of those books that gave you step-by-steps on how to braid, but this looks a little advanced, even for me. Third: nice bangs. Fourth: the Old School Barbie schwag. Fifth: I think it goes without saying that my face is priceless. My dad showed me this photo a couple of weeks ago and when I asked what my issue was, his response was that I wasn't happy with the presents I got.

Some things never change. I have always been, and always will be a birthday snob. And proud of it.

Perhaps the best part of this photo is my older sister, who's cut out of my version, but she's standing there in the original with her arms also crossed and looking at me with pure disgust. Like I said: some things never change.

I should do a {Way Back Whensday} about my birthdays sometime. I had some bomb ass birthdays. One included a cake shaped like a bubble gum machine, with REAL GUMBALLS. Say what?!

Anyway, it's sure to be a good birthday weekend (self-fulfilling prophecy?) Next week, expect great stories from the race (assuming I'm still alive) and a lot of sadness because my BFF is moving away from me. WAAAH. 

Leave me some birthday love!

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Way Back {Whensday}: Addy Throwback

My dog, Addy, often looks at me like I'm bat-shit crazy. Gives me this look out of the corner of her eye. A stink eye, one might say.

Bryan says she does this because I scare her with my kisses, hugs and attempts to dress her in clothing or play with me, like a normal dog. Blasphemy. He says that she doesn't understand what I'm doing when I kiss her, hug her, throw toys for her to fetch, or call her Pookie (or a variation of other pet names that are not 'Addy'). I call bullshit.

Have you ever read The Art of Racing in the Rain? It's totally changed my perspective on dogs.

I do not care what you say: My dog is a person. She cuddles and watches TV. She will sleep until 11am if we do. She can't stand to be alone in a room. She loves Sour Patch Kids, watermelon, cheese, and Bryan and I are convinced that if allowed, she could eat an entire pizza. She sleeps with her head on the pillow and with her body under the covers. She huffs and puffs when we kick her off the bed, and she sighs when we argue in front of her.

Things she does not do but that all "normal" dogs do, which further supports to my theory that she is a person stuck in a dog's body: She does not fetch. She does not devour her food in seconds at dinnertime. She doesn't chew on shoes or destroy anything in the couch. She won't eat my dinner if I leave it on the table unsupervised. She doesn't need to be let out at specific times of the day. She doesn't really love to go on walks. She hates dog parks, and other dogs in general. If let out without a leash, she will not run away. My girlfriend who dog sat for us once put it best when she said that watching Addy was more like "cat sitting."

Anyway, on this "Way Back {Whensday}" with Rachel, I'm not TOTALLY doing what I think this linkup is intended for, but, whatevs. It's my blog and I do what I want! I'm doing a throwback to my sweet Addy, showcasing her cuteness as a puppy.

You're welcome.

A little background on Addy, for those who have never met our little bundle of joy: We rescued her in October 2006. She was originally named 'Chelsea' and was just the sweetest puppy you'd ever met. We met a series of dogs who upon seeing us tried to run us over, peed with excitement, or literally bounced off the walls. Not Addy. She calmly walked over, hopped into my lap and immediately started nuzzling me. I was a goner.

We took Addy home that night, even though we technically were not allowed to have a dog at either of our apartments, and even though we had just gone "to look." Addy was the worst smelling thing to come in our vicinity, but we loved her all the same. We argued the entire ride home about what to re-name her. We finally settled on "Addison," because that was the street where I lived. 

Is she cute or what?

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