T-shirt = I'm with Scalpy
This is the year of revenge.
I have this weekend to toy with the idea of birthdays. Mr. Morgan’s fathers’ is coming up as is my mothers. Will I make them sing to him? You better fucking believe it. I might even bribe strangers to come in and sing with them, the more obscene, the better!
For my mother, she wanted to eat at the Olive Garden. I grinned immediately to myself and told Mr. Morgan to get the gift certificate since I don’t work up there. He sighed and I grinned MORE, knowing that his choice of terminology was biting him in the ass. He doesn’t GET to do shit? I’m an inconvenience? Guess what love, you GET go GET that card and be inconvenienced doing so. Payback is a bitch and my name comes with it flashing in neon.
When asked how much the certificate was for he said 40 dollars. He heard me frown.
“What? That isn’t enough? I didn’t know we were running a soup kitchen.”
Ok, I laughed at that one.
For my birthday, and I’m taking 3 weeks this year I thought I wanted a par-tay! I’ve never had one. Isn’t that kind-of odd? I want a Lindsay Lohan party, with outfit changes and things like that. I even know which outfits I’d rock my party in. Then stopped both myself and the mental visuals of tearing it up because while dancing in my room it seems like a blast, but when the songs ends – DM you don’t have friends. You either push people away or are such a shitty pal that people give up on begging you to be their friend and realize they have better things to do.
Who wants a Dirty Thirty Party with their mom and a punch bowl?
There is also the problem of having it at my house because I’ll just end up being the hostess instead of the birthday girl. And yes, it is also Mr. Morgan’s birthday, but this year everything is about ME. He can mope in 3 years. This is my year to pretend I don’t mind. Even without an official party, I’ll probably still do the outfit changes and dance my non-existent ass off. Sure do miss my ass, it was very nice I assure you.
Even without a party, don’t think I am not accepting gifts. At a recent gift swap from one of my hypochondriac message boards, I planned to ship a potato and noodles, because…… I think it’s fucking hilarious. Of course I’d have sent the real present after, but nothing like being all excited and getting a potato. Great! Supper kids!
All for now, must get socially reasonable to be in public. Bless my officemates for never saying that I look like shit because I often do, and you have to love my GrandMaster for doing the exact opposite.
“Do I look …. Bad?”
“Not until you get close.”
“What the fuck!” (later confirmed by Moon…. So say hi from a distance, I get scarier by the inch it seems)
“You asked.”
“What’s wrong with me, it’s the hair isn’t it.”
“Well, you are a tad scalpy.”
“I knew it. Turning 30 and doomed to scalpy. That way sucks.”
-DM
I have this weekend to toy with the idea of birthdays. Mr. Morgan’s fathers’ is coming up as is my mothers. Will I make them sing to him? You better fucking believe it. I might even bribe strangers to come in and sing with them, the more obscene, the better!
For my mother, she wanted to eat at the Olive Garden. I grinned immediately to myself and told Mr. Morgan to get the gift certificate since I don’t work up there. He sighed and I grinned MORE, knowing that his choice of terminology was biting him in the ass. He doesn’t GET to do shit? I’m an inconvenience? Guess what love, you GET go GET that card and be inconvenienced doing so. Payback is a bitch and my name comes with it flashing in neon.
When asked how much the certificate was for he said 40 dollars. He heard me frown.
“What? That isn’t enough? I didn’t know we were running a soup kitchen.”
Ok, I laughed at that one.
For my birthday, and I’m taking 3 weeks this year I thought I wanted a par-tay! I’ve never had one. Isn’t that kind-of odd? I want a Lindsay Lohan party, with outfit changes and things like that. I even know which outfits I’d rock my party in. Then stopped both myself and the mental visuals of tearing it up because while dancing in my room it seems like a blast, but when the songs ends – DM you don’t have friends. You either push people away or are such a shitty pal that people give up on begging you to be their friend and realize they have better things to do.
Who wants a Dirty Thirty Party with their mom and a punch bowl?
There is also the problem of having it at my house because I’ll just end up being the hostess instead of the birthday girl. And yes, it is also Mr. Morgan’s birthday, but this year everything is about ME. He can mope in 3 years. This is my year to pretend I don’t mind. Even without an official party, I’ll probably still do the outfit changes and dance my non-existent ass off. Sure do miss my ass, it was very nice I assure you.
Even without a party, don’t think I am not accepting gifts. At a recent gift swap from one of my hypochondriac message boards, I planned to ship a potato and noodles, because…… I think it’s fucking hilarious. Of course I’d have sent the real present after, but nothing like being all excited and getting a potato. Great! Supper kids!
All for now, must get socially reasonable to be in public. Bless my officemates for never saying that I look like shit because I often do, and you have to love my GrandMaster for doing the exact opposite.
“Do I look …. Bad?”
“Not until you get close.”
“What the fuck!” (later confirmed by Moon…. So say hi from a distance, I get scarier by the inch it seems)
“You asked.”
“What’s wrong with me, it’s the hair isn’t it.”
“Well, you are a tad scalpy.”
“I knew it. Turning 30 and doomed to scalpy. That way sucks.”
-DM
posted by DMorgan's Zoo at
5:34 PM
6 Comments:
I say let's have a PARTAY! We can all meet up at some undisclosed location...even in Carson City...to celebrate. A few bites to eat, some alcohol...it would be way fun. Pick the place and start telling people. If you tell them, they will come! What about that place that used to be Cattlmen's? (half way twixt Reno and Carson)
If I send you a birthday gift will you return it?
I'll be in Vegas in March if you want to party even though I know that would make it belated partying.
Not fair Shan.... I said clearly why I returned it and I've suspected you've been pissed at me. It truly, looked NOTHING like the website. I'm not sorry to say it was ugly as hell, but very much meant when I said the thought you got me anything at all was the highlight of my day. Who wants a pal who lies? That's reserved for sensitive family members. You know I meant no harm and that I adore you.
Oh and I'd love to partay with you, but Vegas isn't exactly around the corner. Tell those people to set you up closer.
You didn't say costume changes would be involved. Sounds tempting...and I can bring a camera and get crotch shots for the internet.
Ya, this isn't a work conference. It's my brother's bachelor party. No, not Raka, the other one.
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