Happy Birthdays to All
My best friend's birthday was yesterday (he is three months younger than I am, a fact he seldom allows me to forget - B has reminded me that I seldom allowed him to forget I was three months OLDER when we were teenagers) and his son's birthday is today, so we celebrated last night by going out for New Mexican - this is a little different than Tex-Mex or just-plain-Mexican, but don't ask me how. There are still tortillas and hot sauce involved, which is good enough for me.
or, What Happens When Two Old Friends Accompany One New Boyfriend And One Ten-Year Old Boy Out
Not that S. is really new, because they've been seeing one another for several years now, but he's newer than I am, nyah! S. brought a balloon for each of us and we blew them up to varying sizes - B's had a hole in it and many condom jokes were made, of course, once A. (10 year old) went to the restroom) and *koffs* some of us have never liked blowing up balloons because I hate it when they explode in your face so mine was kinda little and size jokes were then made, of course. We did not have noise-makers, which was very likely the best decision that S. made all evening. B's ex-wife had sent his package with A. which was probably a good choice as well, as she and S. do not get along. This was in a Harry Potter bag, and much hilarity then ensued over Harry, Hedwig, and the conversation degenerated to a discussion of various Weasleys as B. is a redhead.
This restaurant is ... a bit odd. They have a cat. Inside the restaurant. It wanders among the guests and solicits pets. During the meals. And if you get up to visit the bathroom (as A. did, you remember) the cat will clamber up into your chair and sit there as if it was originally invited to attend the meal. We pretended not to notice that A. had left the table, and continued speaking to the cat as if we thought it was A., then acted quite surprised when A. returned to the table. The waitress nonchalantly picked up the chair, shook the cat onto the floor, and continued on to serve the next table. A, of course, then negated his trip to the bathroom by petting the cat with his formerly clean hands and had to go back to the bathroom.
BTW it is a grey and white cat, quite over-fed. It did not seem to be one of those "talkative" cats, nor did it attempt to invade anyone's lap, but ... is it me, or is it not very sanitary to have a cat inside one's restaurant? And I actually like cats, and got along well with this one.
At one point, the silliness and balloons-upon-the-head (and other stunts) got to the point where I remarked, "Our waitress is going to make us sit in the courtyard in about five minutes," and she stuck her head out of the kitchen and said with a big grin, "TWO minutes!"
In Which The Couple Resists Several Lewd Suggestions By Teh Olde Friende
Once we got back to the condos - it's so nice that S. has now bought a place in the same building as B., even if it's just so much more convenient to storm out in a huff when they get into a spat, heh - S. brought out his surprise. He'd made a cake! It was a Happy Birthday, Happy Spring Cake: white with cream cheese frosting, tangy lemon custard (my sour receptors are still twanging), and yellow "peeps" (marshmallow chicks) all along the rim of the plate with yellow Easter Grass for decor. Everyone had a scoop of Hagen Daas vanilla and one of lemon sorbet and one Peep with their cake, and S. opened a bottle of nice champagne (we allowed A. two sips and ignored his retching noises and melodramatic faces). You took a bite of sorbet with the lemon-custard bit of cake and HELLO TASTEBUDS WAKE UP, IT'S SPRING! - then you calmed your mouth down with the vanilla bits and champagne before starting over. The Peeps were like parsley, just decoration (I think A. ate his though). I had about half my cake eaten when S. goes, "Oh and BTW there is no sugar at all in this cake - it's all made with 'Splenda.'"
OMGWTFBBQ???!!!! Then the physics geek (B) and the biology geek (velyr) proceeded to conduct several scientific experiments with the Peeps and the Cake to determine exactly WHAT the difference in flavour between Splenda and Sugar might be. We decided that Splenda hits the same areas of the tongue, but that different individual "buds" are involved within that area. Er ... like on your lawn, it's the same lawn, yes? But some patches are crab grass and some patches are dandelions and you can tell the difference if you look closely. And yes, we are actually geeky enough that we do things like that on a regular basis.
A. was a bit incensed that he was going to sleep in his own bed last night and I was to take the futon in the living room (Teh Room With Teh Grand View of ABQ) as he had (incorrectly) assumed he'd be allowed to stay up later if he slept on the futon. So Harry Potter Sheets notwithstanding, the kid slept in his own room and the grownups stayed up talking.
I made several blatant hints to the effect that
a) I did not mind sitting A. if B. and S. wished to go to S's condo for any length of time
b) I did not mind going to S's condo with them if desired
c) I did not mind taking photos of the birthday boy getting his birthday spanking
d) I did not mind taking photos of any proceedings which might arise from said spanking
e) I was certain that if we stopped the elevator for a quickie it would not seriously inconvenience anyone else
f) dammit, I expected some action on certain people's birthdays and I wanted to see some action, dammit again
Alas, the two old farts (we're only in our mid-forties) decided that sex could wait until the velyr were not present and that both of them had to go to work early, and they totally ignored my ever-present need for Smut Inspiration and retired to their separate condos shortly after we forced suggested A. go to bed.
I ask you, was that fair at all?
or, The Birthday Dinner of Doom
Tonight B and I are going over to his ex-wife's place, where she's planned another birthday dinner. I'm going to hit the mall today - we decided to make the long road trip Thursday and Friday instead of today, thus eliminating my need for a rental car - and pick up some goodies for A.
Those of you who've kindly listened to my rants about my Stoner Nephew, listen how kewl this kid, my Adopted Nephew, is. He's ten, he likes Harry Potter, and he's joined a D&D group at his UU church!! I'm buying him a Teh Kewl Dice Bag and some of those Really Nifty Dice so he can be a serious gamer! I'll be honest, if the gods offered to trade, I'd probably see if I could trade in Stoner Nephew for one like A! This kid is just the greatest.
Anyway, B's ex-wife and I get along OK, I like her and all. She does remind me a bit too much of my own ex: very needy, can shift the conversation around to Topic:Her within ten seconds and will do that no matter how serious your original topic might be, and cannot find Teh Perfect Job. My ex kept settling for low-paying jobs because he was waiting for Teh Perfect Job to fall outta the sky onto his head, and so does B's ex. I have lost count of the times she's totally switched careers, but she's gone from chiropractor to herbalist to grief counselor that I know of.
Tonight, I'm going to ostentatiously mention My Gallbladder Surgery and time how long it takes the conversation to suddenly be about Ex-Wife's Gallbladder (or other illness if she's not had gallbladder trouble).
*yawns, stretches*
I hear the sounds of coffee being poured into a French Press ...
*trots into kitchen to investigate*
or, What Happens When Two Old Friends Accompany One New Boyfriend And One Ten-Year Old Boy Out
Not that S. is really new, because they've been seeing one another for several years now, but he's newer than I am, nyah! S. brought a balloon for each of us and we blew them up to varying sizes - B's had a hole in it and many condom jokes were made, of course, once A. (10 year old) went to the restroom) and *koffs* some of us have never liked blowing up balloons because I hate it when they explode in your face so mine was kinda little and size jokes were then made, of course. We did not have noise-makers, which was very likely the best decision that S. made all evening. B's ex-wife had sent his package with A. which was probably a good choice as well, as she and S. do not get along. This was in a Harry Potter bag, and much hilarity then ensued over Harry, Hedwig, and the conversation degenerated to a discussion of various Weasleys as B. is a redhead.
This restaurant is ... a bit odd. They have a cat. Inside the restaurant. It wanders among the guests and solicits pets. During the meals. And if you get up to visit the bathroom (as A. did, you remember) the cat will clamber up into your chair and sit there as if it was originally invited to attend the meal. We pretended not to notice that A. had left the table, and continued speaking to the cat as if we thought it was A., then acted quite surprised when A. returned to the table. The waitress nonchalantly picked up the chair, shook the cat onto the floor, and continued on to serve the next table. A, of course, then negated his trip to the bathroom by petting the cat with his formerly clean hands and had to go back to the bathroom.
BTW it is a grey and white cat, quite over-fed. It did not seem to be one of those "talkative" cats, nor did it attempt to invade anyone's lap, but ... is it me, or is it not very sanitary to have a cat inside one's restaurant? And I actually like cats, and got along well with this one.
At one point, the silliness and balloons-upon-the-head (and other stunts) got to the point where I remarked, "Our waitress is going to make us sit in the courtyard in about five minutes," and she stuck her head out of the kitchen and said with a big grin, "TWO minutes!"
In Which The Couple Resists Several Lewd Suggestions By Teh Olde Friende
Once we got back to the condos - it's so nice that S. has now bought a place in the same building as B., even if it's just so much more convenient to storm out in a huff when they get into a spat, heh - S. brought out his surprise. He'd made a cake! It was a Happy Birthday, Happy Spring Cake: white with cream cheese frosting, tangy lemon custard (my sour receptors are still twanging), and yellow "peeps" (marshmallow chicks) all along the rim of the plate with yellow Easter Grass for decor. Everyone had a scoop of Hagen Daas vanilla and one of lemon sorbet and one Peep with their cake, and S. opened a bottle of nice champagne (we allowed A. two sips and ignored his retching noises and melodramatic faces). You took a bite of sorbet with the lemon-custard bit of cake and HELLO TASTEBUDS WAKE UP, IT'S SPRING! - then you calmed your mouth down with the vanilla bits and champagne before starting over. The Peeps were like parsley, just decoration (I think A. ate his though). I had about half my cake eaten when S. goes, "Oh and BTW there is no sugar at all in this cake - it's all made with 'Splenda.'"
OMGWTFBBQ???!!!! Then the physics geek (B) and the biology geek (velyr) proceeded to conduct several scientific experiments with the Peeps and the Cake to determine exactly WHAT the difference in flavour between Splenda and Sugar might be. We decided that Splenda hits the same areas of the tongue, but that different individual "buds" are involved within that area. Er ... like on your lawn, it's the same lawn, yes? But some patches are crab grass and some patches are dandelions and you can tell the difference if you look closely. And yes, we are actually geeky enough that we do things like that on a regular basis.
A. was a bit incensed that he was going to sleep in his own bed last night and I was to take the futon in the living room (Teh Room With Teh Grand View of ABQ) as he had (incorrectly) assumed he'd be allowed to stay up later if he slept on the futon. So Harry Potter Sheets notwithstanding, the kid slept in his own room and the grownups stayed up talking.
I made several blatant hints to the effect that
a) I did not mind sitting A. if B. and S. wished to go to S's condo for any length of time
b) I did not mind going to S's condo with them if desired
c) I did not mind taking photos of the birthday boy getting his birthday spanking
d) I did not mind taking photos of any proceedings which might arise from said spanking
e) I was certain that if we stopped the elevator for a quickie it would not seriously inconvenience anyone else
f) dammit, I expected some action on certain people's birthdays and I wanted to see some action, dammit again
Alas, the two old farts (we're only in our mid-forties) decided that sex could wait until the velyr were not present and that both of them had to go to work early, and they totally ignored my ever-present need for Smut Inspiration and retired to their separate condos shortly after we forced suggested A. go to bed.
I ask you, was that fair at all?
or, The Birthday Dinner of Doom
Tonight B and I are going over to his ex-wife's place, where she's planned another birthday dinner. I'm going to hit the mall today - we decided to make the long road trip Thursday and Friday instead of today, thus eliminating my need for a rental car - and pick up some goodies for A.
Those of you who've kindly listened to my rants about my Stoner Nephew, listen how kewl this kid, my Adopted Nephew, is. He's ten, he likes Harry Potter, and he's joined a D&D group at his UU church!! I'm buying him a Teh Kewl Dice Bag and some of those Really Nifty Dice so he can be a serious gamer! I'll be honest, if the gods offered to trade, I'd probably see if I could trade in Stoner Nephew for one like A! This kid is just the greatest.
Anyway, B's ex-wife and I get along OK, I like her and all. She does remind me a bit too much of my own ex: very needy, can shift the conversation around to Topic:Her within ten seconds and will do that no matter how serious your original topic might be, and cannot find Teh Perfect Job. My ex kept settling for low-paying jobs because he was waiting for Teh Perfect Job to fall outta the sky onto his head, and so does B's ex. I have lost count of the times she's totally switched careers, but she's gone from chiropractor to herbalist to grief counselor that I know of.
Tonight, I'm going to ostentatiously mention My Gallbladder Surgery and time how long it takes the conversation to suddenly be about Ex-Wife's Gallbladder (or other illness if she's not had gallbladder trouble).
*yawns, stretches*
I hear the sounds of coffee being poured into a French Press ...
*trots into kitchen to investigate*