Birthday Suit, Birthday Loot

I am eternally in awe of Orem Savers for many reasons, not the least of which was its generous bestowal of my most prized possession: my Birthday Suit. Nothing says "Let's celebrate!" quite like waking up in the morningand putting on this little number. You have to admit, it's glorious. And I wore it all day. And it was really fun.


I started my birthday with a trip to an oft-noticed but not-yet-visited establishment by the name of Banbury Cross Donuts, a charming establishment with lots of windows and doughnuts, and not a lot of customers (just one: a cop. Not kidding.) and after ogling the Wall Of Doughnuts for a bit I noticed that the young lady behind the counter looked bamboozled. I accurately presumed the suit was the culprit and simply said "It's my birthday." She seemed satisfied. A few minutes later, the doughnut chef came out from the back and, to the horror of the remaining staff, sang a lovely rendition of Happy Birthday To You. I, naturally, stood up and danced aroud like a gilded freak. As you can see, I thought that six doughnuts would be an appropriate amount, and I was spot on. We finished everything but the fritter.


The day's excitement continued as I went home and chatted with my good chatting buddies online (you know the ones, always around and down to waste your time anytime), and my parents on the phone (some people still use phones, chatting buddies, just so you know... I, myself, had nearly forgotten...). My parents gave me a beauty of a green coat and fancy mittens. The picture of me in the coat is bad, but I am sick of taking pictures.


When I picked up Ryan from school, it was time to party. First we went to Costco. It is very sad that I neglected to take a picture of myself there because it seemed like people were really into the suit. Interestingly, I found that when I caught someone having a look, they quickly averted their gaze, as though they hadn't been looking at all. Come on folks, let's not kid. I know you're looking. I'm begging for it. Get real.

Then I took my birthday monies to a place where I knew they could be put to immediate exciting use: Ikea, housewife mecca. While we were there, three people stopped me to wish me a happy birthday, which I thought was very nice, and a great deal more honest than the surreptitious Costco oglers. I purchased four large plate/bowls (the kind in which salads are served in restaurants), a giant Tupperware container to hold salad (can you tell the doughnuts were disturbing my subconscious?) and a large frame, at Ryan's request (he wouldn't tell me why, but it was because he drew me a picture for my birthday present; tragically he will not allow me to post a picture of it here, but trust me, it is beautiful). I also bought one of them apple slicer things and a coffee grinder to grind spices at Bed Bath and Beyond. It was a housewife's dream come true; many, many thanks to those of you who made it possible (you know who you are).


After Ikea, we went to the newly opened Cheesecake Factory. This was an unbelievably idiotic thing to do. (If you who live in Utah, you probably already know why). In a state where few vices are socially acceptable, more than a few addicts turn unhesitatingly to sugar. The result is an eating-out culture that rivals a fraternity style model of consumption. In such a milieu, it makes sense that there are a great deal of dessert connoisseurs roaming around, intent on obtaining the very finest. The result was that the newly opened Cheesecake Factory had a five hour wait. My handsome dinner team, depicted below, sans handsome Neil, who seems to be hidden, and I left and sought refuge elsewhere, were well-accommodated, and skipped dessert.

I had one more birthday trick up my sleeve:

In case you can't tell which item in this picture is the exciting one, I will just tell you: it's the pull up bar. I have decided that I don't want to leave this earth never having pulled-up. So I bought the bar with full intent. I'll let you know how it goes.

Here's a little bonus for those who read this entire, admittedly traveloguesque, thing:

Happy Birthday, two days ago, to me!