10 pounds off my middle.

or anything from my wishlist

Run 3, Abs 200

So, yes. I mean, obviously it's been busy. Things are picking up with client B and it's busy season with client A and I have to be in San Diego this weekend and LA two weeeks later and Iowa two weeks after that...and though all of those trips will be super fun...you know. Busy. And I have this very long entry about March of the Penguins because people wrote in such lovely things about that move. I don't know...do you all want me to go real time and get some real blog software so you can have comment ability and talk to each other? I so like the relaxation of coding each page, but I'll take one for the team.

Anyway, that is all coming. But for now we will recap shamus' 29th birthday in San Francisco...with pictures thanks to Halff!

On Monday, I get an IM from Halff.

Halff: Do you have a minute so I can ask you something crazy?

Me: If you have a minute to answer a question on whether or not we have an EPS version of that file.

Halff: I'm taking care of it. Okay, so, listen, if for shamus' birthday present I bought you a ticket to fly into SF on Friday and surprise him at his birthday party, would you be able to do that? I know it's short notice and you're super busy.

Me: Let me think about it for a while.

...

Ten seconds go by.

...

Me: Okay, I'll send you some flight options.

And it was ON. So I get to San Francisco, and originally there is a fairly elaborate plan that involves us surprising shamus at Ritual, which is apparently where all the kids hang out now, but shamus decides to pay his credit card bill in person on his birthday, which pretty much screws that up. So instead we hang out in the kitchen while Halff preps dinner and we wait for shamus...who eventually walks in and is...baffled. He needs to take a moment to leave the room and collect himself. It is the sweetest thing ever, and Halff is the best boyfriend ever for buying shamus a trip from his friend for his birthday. I could gush about what a sweet moment it was, but that would detract from talking about how the party turned into an example of why people end up in AA, and who wants that?

The boys and I go to Ritual anyway because the owner has prepared birthday cupcakes for shamus. Here is a note: If you live in SF and haven't been hanging at Ritual, why not? If you're visiting, go there. Both the cupcakes and the coffee are amazing. I, of course, go through my typical crisis about missing that kind of scene, but then we step outside after the amazing birthday cupcakes and coffee, and it's cold and grey, so I get over it.

shamus and I spend a lovely afternoon doing a lot of nothing. He plays a cd for me that I now love. We go and buy 12 pounds of meat at the butchers and the wrong kind of tequila at the market. We watch some strange cartoon show that makes your head hurt after too many episodes. We hang out. We get lost on a road that makes no sense even though we have both lived in that city for almost a decade. We do nothing, and it is perfect.

And by the way, by "wrong type of tequila," what I mean is that we bought two $50 bottles of tequila that were not exactly the right brand. We went back when we discovered this to try to exchange them, but they didn't have the exact brand we were looking for. You would think that $50 bottles of tequila would mean we say, "Fuck it. They're the most expensive tequila in this gourmet store, they must be good." But instead we made at least four panic stricken phonecalls announcing we were having a tequila CRISIS while we stood in the store for half an hour trying to figure out what to do. We're ridiculous. I know.

And then the party starts, and also the photos.

Here is the birthday boy on his big night.

So, the party consisted of eight of us who were going to eat Halff's famous mango-glazed spareribs and drink Evan's famous margaritas and have a generally delightful time. Here are the mango-glazezd spareribs so you can salivate:

And here are the pretty boys making margaritas. The margaritas are the first place things start to go wrong. Apparently, there is usually a system with these margaritas wherein each time your glass is refilled you get a new slice of lime so that you can keep track of exactly what you've done to your body. This system was not in place because "It's a birthday party" is seemlingly code for "Get your drink ON." So, before the ribs even begin to come out of the oven, at least two of us are already on our way to d.r.u.n.k., with others not far behind.

The kitchen begins to get very smokey. So smokey, in fact, that several of us flee to the living room. The smoke is explained by there just being so many ribs to cook and the oven working very hard, but while we are in the living room, the ribs CATCH ON FIRE. Look, I'm not joking...

You would think something like that would ruin them, but they were just fine. I'm told that that watching the whole thing go down was so damn funny, but unfortunately I missed it. I did not, however, miss a refill on my margarita because it was brought to the living room and poured for me.

Ribs are served. Dinner is AMAZING. Eventually, the tequila runs out (Yes - eight people, two large bottles, you do the math). When the tequila runs out is when the problem starts. This picture below? This is how I remember the rest of the night...

I remember it this way because of this...

Yes, that's single malt scotch being drunk straight from the bottle. But how did that happen, you ask? Who does that, you ask? Here's how it went down:

There is some historical evidence that shamus and I enjoy drinking Jack Daniels straight on occassions such as birthdays. We had no plans to partake in that activity on this particular night because, well, we are not that young anymore. At some point in the night, after the tequila was gone, a bottle of Jack Daniels mysteriously appeared on the counter. Nobody has claimed responsibility for putting it there yet, but I think we all know who it must be. Please also note that at this time people were already drunk enough that there had been spillage and somebody licking ice cream off of somebody's crotch. It's not like we hadn't had enough to drink with two bottles of tequila.

But, once the Jack was out, it was like a train people couldn't get off of. shamus takes a shot, and then Corey takes a shot, and then the bottle is half-way gone between just the two of them before it even makes it to me and I physically don't even understand how that can happen. I don't remember our finishing that bottle. I don't remember who decided we should also do the same thing with a bottle of single malt scotch, but we did. I don't remember why we thought it was a good idea to cap all of that with some German fruity liquor from Avery and Janet at the end, but we did.

For the record, here's what I do remember:

• Corey and I literally passed out on the hardwood floor in the living room. Corey later got up and went home where he apparently had some water and a vitamin and got up at 9am the next day to unpack his new apartment. I remained passed out on the hardwood floor ALL NIGHT LONG and woke up with my ass pressed into the cold fireplace.
• We drunk called Pookie.
• shamus essentially forced a shot on Evan, which was actually funny.
• shamus' cousin called to discuss domestic abuse at four in the morning and he didn't want to make her feel like she had to get off of the phone, so even though we were all sitting there listening to this horribly uncomfortable conversation, he kept saying to her, "It's coooool. Nooooobody's here."

Wait. Um. Yeah, that's pretty much all I remember.

The next day was not.good. Some people were up and moving. Some people stayed in bed until 4pm in the afternoon. We watched Romi and Michelle's High School Reunion, which made it all better.

Happy birthday , shamus. You look FINE for 29!