Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.
Every Day, every hour, every second, we're getting older. Getting closer to the day we become worm food. But we have one day that we celebrate an entire year's worth of ageing. Some people dread it. They don't want to get older, they want time to slow or stop entirely. Some peope couldn't give a shit - it's just another day, after all. Some people look forward to it as a damn good excuse to party.
Cruiseydyke has been planning this thing for weeks, it seems. There's somewhere in the region of fourty people supposedly landing on our doorstep for a BBQ this afternoon. But that's party number two. Party number one started at the pub last night and continued into the extremely wee hours of this morning.
A prehistoric form of Cruiseydyke appeared in the hallway this morning, half-slithering, half-crawling her way to the toilet. She squints up at me, obviously suffering a prehistoric fear of the light that may burn her eyes in this delicate period of evolution. Then, with a startling clarity of speech given the situation and location, Cruiseydyke announced to me that
Dude, it's not funny. I don't think I have the capacity to be vertical right now.
I mean, I know I've got legs but,... shit.
So, Happy Birthday to Cruiseydyke, the OCD freak who cannot stand anything being on the floor, who if she touches one pocket on her jeans, she has to touch them all to complete the pattern.
Happy Birthday to the self-confessed kissing slut. She'll kiss almost anybody when she's drunk, including me.
Happy Birthday to Cruiseydyke, rider of shopping trolleys. To the girl who has declared on several occasions that she will no longer indulge in a mid-week binge. Or that she's never drinking again. Or that shopping trolleys are bad for you.
Happy Birthday to a girl whose favourite hung over position is half-asleep on a goon bag on the landing.
3 comments:
Woohoo!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CRUISEYDYKE!
XOX
Hey, Groover! Is that Little Groover I see in the top left corner of the photo?
And "Time" is a great lyric to write in birthday cards.
Have a great barbie this afternoon (Shit; it's morning here so you're probably already drunk over there).
And thanks for Pink Floyd Week. It was awsome!
Dive, that isn't Little Groover in the shot. It's Juno, my legend cat who plays fetch with balls of paper.
The barbie has been and gone with plenty of beer, good music and good food. There is a hardcore group still drinking in the loungeroom who will be there for some time. The weird thing is that they aren't musicians...
Thankyou also for Pink Floyd week, it's been good fun.
Happy (now somewhat belated) Birthday, Cruiseydyke!
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