it was my party.

(and, for the record, I didn't cry. I didn't even want to.)

Last night, I celebrated my birthday with a party. Parties can be uncomfortable. Small talk, for example. Hearing the words, "And what do you do?" coming out of my mouth makes me hate myself a little. I also happen to suffer from Entertainer's Complex as well, which means that when I am with other people, I am so highly involved in ensuring that they are having the best time of their lives, I often become robotic, anxious and uptight.

I am definitely making some excellent arguments for being my friend or being invited to a party. Right.

But anyway, good news. This party was a complete success, bringing together wonderful people, delicious food, fresh flowers, generous sussies, and a game that makes me laugh so hard I pee a little.

My new year is starting off good.

My girl even went all out and surprised me with making up her own place cards (not necessarily the first thing she would normally think of, but damn if they didn't make me so happy, bless her.)

Very simple + easy + copied from a previous city party we went to years ago. You take a wine cork and make a slit in the top with a box cutter and then stick in a little piece of paper with your name on it. I'm sure the variations are endless.


We found this kitten sitting on our front stoop at the end of night. After a delicious dinner of cream + lox and then a brief sexual identity crisis, she became a he named Winston who now lives happily with friend Jane. I've told Winston that we can share a birthday - obviously, next year he would like to receive a formal invitation to the party.