Samoas are yummy

So, it's my birthday. I've found that once you reach a certain age; i.e. anything above 21, birthdays aren't too exciting. You still have to work; you don't get to buy an excessive amount of scratch tickets and cans of Copenhagen for your father. You don't get to wear a velvet dress anymore. (Side note—I totally had one too. And I was a hottie in it, but I digress.) You don't get a piñata or tickets to visit your neglectful mother in Florida. You don't get attacked by a hot guy with a bad toupee. You can't try to seduce your cold skinned boyfriend who is protecting his "virtue" whatever the fuck that is…You don't get dream catchers from muscled boys who speak basic Spanish. Oh wait. That wouldn't happen to me at all...

Do I need to knock a bitch out to wear velvet again?

Instead, I have to work, which is fine I suppose. I have gotten some pretty sweeet presents including a wilted daffodil and dollar store lotion. Ah, the perks of teaching two year olds...At least I get to gorge myself on Girl Scout cookies.

See even Rob likes them. He wants me to have a happy birthday...

So to be as narcissistic as I am. Happy Birthday to Me!

Happy Birthday to my parents.

A few odd years ago, my parents were born. On the same day, in the same year. Mere hours apart and an entire state away. On their 29th birthday my Mom went into labor with me; giving me a birthday the day after theirs. My parent were always the cool parents, the fun parents. All my friends wanted my aprents for their own. Jealous, bitches.

My Father likes to be called "Your Awesomeness" and my mother is the spitting image of Rachel Greene from Friends. Yeah, she's that good looking. It is impossible not to love my parents.

 They totally rock and I wish I could give them a tribute that they truly deserve but instead I want to show the best picture of them ever taken. The photographic proof that my parents can party down.

Yes, this is my parents. No you cannot borrow them.

Happy Birthday Your Awesomeness and Beans.

I love you!