26: In Pictures

So, it's official. I'm old. BUT, getting there was fun. Have a look!



Got this WIIIICKED nail kit from my parents first thing in the morning. I don't know if my parents wanted to get me a present so much as my mom wanted me OUT OF HER CRAP, but excellent either way.



Got this necklace from FJ after I coveted it in her house a few weeks ago. My neck might buckle under the weight of it, but it'll totally be worth it.



Little One's envelope. Sealed with quality spit to prevent Coco from getting into it, and stuffed with this:



I'm not sure if she really understands how we're related.



Red velvet cupcakes. I've never been to heaven before, but I bet if you licked it, it would taste like these bad boys.



Books from Eureka. She's big on the edumacation.



Bling, from Little One, Brownies and Mouse. Wear your sunglasses the next time you're around me. You might get blinded by this ice. (Okay, these aren't really diamonds, but how badass did that sound?!)

That's how it ended, Internet. Great year, great birthday, great family and friends. But not THAT GREAT. There's always next year. Start planning.

Where I've been

I haven't been posting much here, and for good reason. Here's a list of things that have kept me away from this precious blog for the past while:

1. Ramadan: Not being able to eat three to twelve meals a day has really cut down on my brain activity/finger strength.

2. Work: I was taking planes, trains and automobiles (minus the planes) around Egypt last week for work. Let me tell you, walking into your house at 9 pm after being in the filthiest mango market you've ever seen is not inspiring.

3. My birthday: On Sunday, I turn Old. This is causing me much stress and gray hair. Send presents. It'll help.

Another mind numbing conversation

And this time, it WASN'T with Little One!

Friday night, the Js had one last (last?) hurrah before heading back to America to waste their days away without me. I THINK last night's shindig was a belated birthday party for MJ, a pre-birthday party for me and FJ, a going away bash, and an "o crap, Ramadan starts in ten minutes" celebration, but I'm still a little uncertain.

Anyway, as I was heading out, I pulled out my car key and this fine example of verbal mastery occurred:

I Can't Give His Name Initials Because Then You'd Know Who I Was Talking About: Hmm, a VW. Do you drive a Passat?

Me: No.

ICGHNIBTYKWIWTA: A Golf?

Me: Nope.

ICGHNIBTYKWIWTA: A Polo?

Me: Negative. Starts with a 'J.'

ICGHNIBTYKWIWTA: A Golf?

God, give me strength.

Egypt. Women. Marriage. Insanity.

I went to the official wedding ceremony of one of my coworkers last night, and as happy as I wanted to be for the guy, there were a few things standing in the way. First, the mosque was LITERALLY (some would say 'figuratively' would be a better word choice here, I disagree) four days away from my house. Second, the guy didn't crack a smile the whole way through. And finally, in his speech about what makes a good wife, the sheikh offered this pearl of wisdom:

"If a wife wakes up, gets dressed and leaves the house before her husband wakes up, she was not brought up well and has no manners."

REALLY NOW? Needless to say, this did not go over well with the ten development practitioners I was sitting in the middle of.

And you want to know the worst part? Someone asked me if they could have my piece of chocolate. And I said yes.

Julia Child, eat your heart out

Scene: Bedroom. Eating mashed pumpkin.

Me: Little One, will cinnamon make me stay up all night?

Little One: Umm, a) don't be an idiot. And b) if anything's going to make you stay up all night, it's going to be all the sugar in there.

Me: THERE'S SUGAR IN HERE?!

Little One: Yeah, can't you taste it?

Me: No. I spilled the whole jar of cinnamon on this. I can't taste anything.

And this, Internet, is why I shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen. Ever.

Suspects

Internet, I got no sleep last night. You and I both know my love for self-diagnosing, and I think I got myself so worked up about potentially being lactose intolerant that my beauty sleep was forsaken (and as Little One will tell you, that beauty sleep is much needed). I've been vocal about HATING cheese, but if I can't have cereal or coffee anymore because milk has been cut out of my diet (not a real diet, cool your jets), what will I do with my mornings? Be productive? Ha. CRISIS!

Anyway, possible reasons for my lack of shut eye include:

• My fear of rotten milk has now developed into a full blown anti-milk crusade
• The four nausea pills I took had some sort of caffeine in them
• Little One's warnings to sleep with one eye open have come to fruition

Anyone else out there's body waging war against them after drinking milk? I want milk to do my body good, I really do, but right now it's pretty intent on just bitch slapping me across the face. Suggestions?

Trauma

Last Wednesday, my mother, Little One and I took our cat to the groomer (yes, it takes a village). Coco is a half-Persian, half-Rugrat, long-haired little rascal, and every year she has to get the knots shaved out of her. Coco is notoriously unfriendly (and maybe a little racist), and loves alerting the neighbors every time we take her out of the comfort of her luxury dwelling.

For this particular shaving, it took three (THREE!) tranquilizer shots to sedate her, and she still hasn't forgiven us for the events that transpired. Not only does she now look ridiculous, but she refuses to pay any attention to us, has gotten mildly aggressive, and never wants to cuddle. Now, I'm all for her rebelling and acting out against us, but let's take a look back at some of the traumatizing events of my past and see where they've led me:

1. Six years old: Being hit on the shoulder by the wing of a disgusting bird while riding my bike.
2. 10 years old: Having a gecko run down my arm while tilting our mailbox over to retrieve the mail.
3. 25 years old: Having someone put their BARE foot (*shudder) on my exposed leg.

Ahh yes, proceed Coco. You have every right to be pissed and hold your shaving against us for the rest of your nine lives.

Pittsburgh Pirates shirts and floral shorts

I don't know how I feel about the Internet showing me this article. Apparently MTV is now giving celebrities the chance to critique their own outfits? Presumably if celebrities are wearing these outfits on their own accord, they think they look good, right? And if they don't, why would they want to go on record talking about how ridiculous they look? I mean, in the 8th grade, I wore this outfit...



...but you don't see me talking about it.

(Click photo to enlarge. Do so at your own risk, however.)