I got a banner made of paper towels with a moronic smiling framed Gary Basey, standing there, like a thumbs-up altar above the sink. I had to laugh and I’m still smiling just thinking about it. Ah, my housemates…
I got a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my equally beautiful friends from Europe – with a card and heart-warming words. I never got flowers like this. I had to cry. Because I felt and still feel grateful to have these persons in my life and because I miss them. A lot. Every fucking day.
I got a really nice memorable birthday evening with lovely people around me – self-made cake and cookies, soup I made (and not even one spilled it out after tasting it), tapas that reminded me of great potluck dinner in Amsterdam with my favourite girl of Barcelona, a superlunary smoke that tasted like honey dew melon, a fucking addictive norwegian birthday song with a dance interlude, catching laughter all night long and a lot of sober and canned good talks before at and after the pub.
…and I got a lot of new nicknames like Queen of the Cookies (hard-earned), Birthday Girl (obvious reasons – but I GOT A PINK BROOCH WITH THAT ON IT <3, so I'll be the Birthday Girl every day from now on), the girl with the creepy norwegian friend who talks about Pinocchio and whales all the time (yeah, it is him), Miss White Chocolate (I KNOW IT IS NOT REAL CHOCOLATE BUT I DON’T CARE) and MILF (don’t even go there…).