In my opinion, birthday parties should always be held at dive bars, while dressed to the nines and surrounded by your closest friends.

Oh, and you should have a rule about re-gifting…as in, everyone should do it.

This year was pretty epic, my friends, as you can tell by checking out the photo album. I’m trying to decide what the best part of the night was…was it the matching bridesmaid dresses complete with leg warmers and Converse?

they're sexy and they know it...

they’re sexy and they know it…

Or was it the thighmaster (or whatever this thing is?)

I'm so strong. I will. Rip. Your. Face. OFF!

I’m so strong. I will. Rip. Your. Face. OFF!

No! I know! It was the shoes.

i still love to hate these shoes. but I did manage to wear them most of the night.

i still love to hate these shoes. but I did manage to wear them most of the night.

If any of you have attended my birthdays before, you will already be aware that something always ends up around my head. One year, it was the ribbon from a birthday present:

me and bobby mcgee...and my headband.

me and bobby mcgee…and my headband.

This year, it was my necklace:

Why wear a necklace around one's neck? it's much more fashionable around one's head.

Why wear a necklace around one’s neck? it’s much more fashionable around one’s head.

As far as re-gifts go, there were no fake-filled condoms (much to my relief), however there were pipe cleaners, a framed set of dead butterflies, a Wazzuopoly game, a goblet with “Shoeaholic” on it (SO appropriate), and feet pads that de-toxify your body, amongst various and sundry other items, both useful and not.

My main tattoo man, Fred, also gave me a certificate for a free tattoo. It’s a bit wrinkly due to the fact that upon receipt I immediately stuck it in God’s Pocket and there it remained for the rest of the night (I will blog on God’s Pocket at a not-too-distant point in the future; suffice to say that it is a woman’s built-in purse that stores everything from ID, credit cards, cell phones, make up, and now…tattoo coupons.)

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here, “don’t get crazy” means the size of two playing cards next to one another. woot!

The cap to the night was a rousing rendition of “The Rose”, which, as anyone that has experienced it before can tell you, was the perfect capper to the perfect night.

beneath the bitter (so cold) snow...

beneath the bitter (so cold) snow…

I had the good fortune to be transported to and from the party by my good friends Heather and David (thanks guys, go DDs!)…the ride home is a bit fuzzy, as might be imagined, but this morning I had a great reminder of the night before. When you wake up to birthday balloons and heels on the kitchen floor, you know you had a good night.

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Thanks to everyone that came out last night…it was AWESOME.

Mush on, dudes. Mush on.