It's that time of the year again
Next week, I'll turn 30 again. As a matter of fact, I've celebrated my 30th birthday for years, starting when I turned 29. By now, even my dad lost track of my real age. Clever, eh? Don't feel a year older than 30, anyway or 12 in all matters concerning Orlando Bloom, and what's in a number, anyway?
Usually, I invite my friends and we have dinner, talk a lot and are silly. But then we always have dinner, talk a lot and are silly. This year, however, I decided that I was far too lazy for cooking and Max far too unmannerly to invite guests. And as Miss K. had to work, anyway, I decided to party at her restaurant, the Valentinos. We'll have raclette - yum! Miss C. groaned as she prefers fondue, but I'm sure she'll survive.
Fondue is for girls - mild arguments over who lost the bread in the cheese, very polite disagreements.
Raclette, however, is warrior-food! Loud, violent fighting over the cheese and the silver onions! Arguments bordering wars over the pickled garlic! And trust me, you would not want to know the scenes I've witnessed when two people started to fight over the last potato! My sister (the Goth) is invited as well, so it's going to be loud!
I'll possibly nick into the Skyyy and make a prank call to Fin, claiming I was from the vice squad. Hehehe. Or maybe: "Lost property office here, good morning. Someone handed in a brain, do you miss yours?"
Ahhh... this will be fun! And we'll have Spongue Bob Squarepants napkins. I mean, you can't have a proper birthday party without Sponge Bob Squarepants napkins, now can you! Miss C. insists I'm Squidward. But then she also thought I was the monkey from "Aladdin" and Chicken from the Cow and Chicken cartoons.
I really think I have to work on my image.
This was another completely pointless post brought to you by
Erestor