Turning Forty-Five

So my husband's grumbling 'cos he can't find a clean Tupperware to store the leftovers in and I'm all relaxed because "Man it's my birthday, who cares?" and after five (or six?) flutes of champagne, fuck I haven't been this drunk since 1989, we watched Aliens vs. Monsters with the kids and the rabbit peed on Pauline's pyjamas and I go into the kitchen laughing like a motherfucker to unload the dishwasher with one hand while sexting Ms. Mac with the other, but I keep pushing the SEND button too early (stupid phone is retarded obviously) and Stella has to hold her breath in between sexts to understand what the heck I'm talking about, and I make myself a coffee to try and sober up. Do NOT want to go to bed with so much alkyhall in the blood. Do NOT want to be hanged over tomorrow.

Kevin got the hiccups during the movie and Pauline was cross 'cos I kept shrieking with laughter and dropping my head onto her shoulder.

Shit now, with my eyelids at half-mast, I understand how people get drunk, take too many meds and fall down the stairs or into the fireplace!!! But I'm still sufficiently obsessed with good presentation to backtrack and correct my typos so y'all can read this.

So I check my email again to see if my brand new clients received the enormous, wonderful, skillfully-crafted and perfectly-formed translation I sent them tonight after three solid days of work. I am SO proud of myself. I worked SO HARD for the last week, wanting to impress them with my language skillz and show them how good my French is. My brain is fried and I understand why businessmen get drunk, sniff drugs and take a hooker for the night. Once I had pressed SEND on that contract, I had just one desire: to U.W.I.N.D baby. I haven't found any drugs to sniff or hookers yet, but I sure would like to.

And in spite of working from 7 am to 7 pm today, I had such a lovely burpday, with phone calls from Canada and New Zealand and Australia, and so many happy messages from around the world. I am a lucky, lucky girl!