It was my birthday yesterday. For the very special occasion, I got to leave the institute and spend the night back in Budva. It was so I could see friends at the hostel, eat barbecue, collect a slew of presents, including what had come in the mail from peeps at home, generally be lavished with attention and love, which strangely, I’m not getting at the institute, and connect to the internet for the only time this entire week. (Gasp!) And, I had the most spectacular day! It wasn’t enough that Matt and his girlfriend came from London with gifts of Sue Townsend (book), Tom McRae (CD), The Tea House in Covent Garden (3 different kinds of tea), and The Body Shop (smell goods), and carried around all of my heavy bags so that my old-lady back wouldn’t get further injured, but the best presents they gave me was company in a strange place like Igalo, and a ride to Budva.
How can one of my best birthdays possibly be one that I spent several thousand miles away from 90% of my friends and loved ones, in a country where I don’t speak the language, and oh, yeah, my back got injured and I’m walking around like a gimp all the time? Well, it was.
My cup runneth over. It really does. It runneth big time.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
We're Gonna Drink Bacardi Like It's My Birthday
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2 comments:
Happy Birthday Martina! Dobro Jutro!
Okay, I am officially an ASSHOLE. How did I not remember your birthday? Aside from the fact that I forget everyone's, and that it took me a bit too long to figure out how to post a comment (in other words, I am slightly retarded), I don't really have much excuse. I love you so much. I hope you know that. And the best excuse ever to get my shit together is so I can show up and be there for my amazing and wonderful friend Martina. PS. I have something for you.
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