This week in Yick
Someone asked if I was the mother of the groom.
Flat feet informed me that shoes without arch support will no longer be tolerated. If I fail to comply, they will walk out on me.
I turned thirty-one. Sir Paul turned sixty-five on the same day, thus outliving his song both age-wise and happy-marriage-wise. We knocked back a few cold ones at the corner pub and sang of yesterday.
Due to said birthday, I am about to be booted from my beloved singles' ward and left to the mercy of predatory 50-year-old divorced men and migratory bands of terminal commitmentphobes.
This week in Yippee
Adorable little brother got married but.......see above.
Nasturtium seeds finally sprouted.
A bunch of new people wandered onto my blog on my birthday and told me I was funny.
Family gave me the most fantastic rose bouquet in the history of rose bouquets. I'm not a fan of hybrid tea roses, but these made me a believer: orange, red, and pink -- Cinco de Mayo in a vase.
Night out in the canyon with the hi-larious girls. Acquired useful new phrase, "gettin' your Gucci."
Loot: Funky Regina Spektor import. Gorgeous new astronomy book.
Sprang for the pricey sour cream and got free relationship advice. I win!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Posted by Marie at 10:35 PM