When the Sky Makes You Drool Just Like Pasta Fazul, that's Amore

Plane trip!  We’re on our way to New Mexico for the third leg of our Wedding That Won’t Die.  Five days of parties, bonding with members of my new family, getting up ass early to watch 400 hot air balloons rise into the air, AND going up in a balloon myself.  Just me, my darling husband and someone whose name is probably something like “Fuzzy”.  Romantical.

Doyle and I get to the airport, check our bags and while getting ready to head over to our TSA groping session, my husband hands me my boarding pass.  I glance over it, and immediately I can feel my ass start to clench.

Happy Boozy Birthday Cake to Me

Wow, thanks for all the birthday love you’ve been sending me, people.  I mean, I know that my family knows my birthday and all, but for those of you who are strangers to my eyes and just popped out of the ethers to wish me a happy birthday from Russia or Sweden or some other country I’ve never visited, to you I say:

Thank you! And who are you, how did you find me and how the hell did you know today was my birthday?  What other pertinent information do you have about me?  Social Security Number?  Birth Certificate copy?  That school picture of me in eighth grade with those pink John Waters’ nightmare glasses?

HOWWHATWHYWHENWHEREWHO?