I can now safely say that approximately one month after the real date my birthday celebrations are finally over.
I was pampered. I was loved. I was hugged. I was made so bloody happy.
Like this picture below illustrates, I genuinely like to be in the spotlight and on birthdays I don't have to hide it.
The feeling we got after I admitted that I have gained some extra kilos:
With the support of my friends I can do anything!
Being a host is so much pressure! I forgot so many things, like to serve the ice-cream. DISASTER! It is always a real struggle to make everyone feel welcome. I forgot to check out the gifts and discovered lovely notes like three days later. I should have thanked more and hugged more. The gifts were ideal and I didn't even have to use my fake this-gift-is-so-awesome face, but actually thinking what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-with-this-crap (gifts like living hamster or a book What to Expect When You’re Expecting when you are just fat).
My friends know me better than that or Fred gave them really good tips. AITÄH SÕBRAD!
G made a bitchin' cake.
I salute her!:
The Uber driver was waiting, the neighbours were watching,
but one does not leave from my birthday party without a picture:
GÖÖÖÖRLLLFRIEEENDSS!:
My doors are open for early birds and later comers.
Come as you are:
Even cute Mister Squirrel dropped by.
First it was cute and all,
but now he is eating my plants and the friendship is over!
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