Your gift, my angel, as you enter the last year of your 20's: our love in pictures. Voila!
Click the damn thing to see a larger version.
Baby, you ARE/OWN/MAINTAIN INSURANCE ON/HAVE RUN OFF WITH/BURN/LICK/EAT/PUKE UP/EAT AGAIN/PUKE UP AGAIN/HOSE OFF/ENSHRINE/CAGE/WORSHIP/LEACH FLUIDS FROM/STOP/KICKSTART/TAKE ANOTHER LITTLE PIECE OF/KEEP A FIERCE GRIP UPON/MASSAGE/GENERALLY PLEASE...
HAPPY BIRFDAY REESE! (He's the larger boy in the photo.)
So he checks this blog like twice a year, but he'll see this eventually. I hope you have tons of fun and score tons of chicks! Artsy chicks who are skinny and like nice guys! Have fun at MFPs without me!
Sniffles. Missing lots of birfdays this year, but this one's a particularly sore reminder of where I'm not. It'll be the first time I don't celebrate the anniversary of Reese's birth in... what...five...is it five..holy crapy FIVE years?!? Yowsers.
Today Chicago gets an A for effort (the blizzard was wild), but an overall D- for performance.
The sweetest girl in the world had a joint birfday party with me last night (I know, it's not my birfday yet, but J's coming into town on birfday proper, and I don't want to share), and she was lovely, lit up the place, wowed my "date" (Sarah) with her wit, charm, and general awesomeness. I, the hostess and second birfday girl, wandered in and out of rooms, mostly just watching, occasionally verbally sparring with a guest or refilling a drink. I then kicked everyone out of my apartment at 11 and dragged them to a gay sports bar that I like.
I should just retire from the world and live on the internets. Where all I care about is tennis and photos.
My friend Bud (Buck, Buckles, George, Lonell, whatever) works as a Production Assistant for some film company that shoots commercials and the like. He was on set for a project when this producer spotted him, declared him "perfect" to star in the ESPN2 ad they were shooting for Widmer Brothers, and gave him the job.
Now Bud is, in Jamey's terms (LOL!), "really quite dashing," so I thought to myself, "You know, I could totally see him as an actor. He's got the bone structure and the youf-ful face, the cornsilk hair and the charisma, all that--yeah, I see why they picked him out of a crowd."
Well, after weeks of suspense, the commercial is finally airing. And... I'm not exactly sure how one can be "perfect" for what they did to him:
LOL! I realize the ad would be pretty un-funny without knowing Buck, but--LOL! How can you be "perfect" to don a singlet while the crew pegs you with tennis balls? Oh, I can't wait until I get to hoot and holler when this comes on during the French Open. Which ESPN2 damn well better show, or I'm gonna stage a riot.
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