Last week I got a tiny cake.
‘Cause my friends are awesome.
And, also, because it’d been a whole year since we’d celebrated my existence.
Yet a tiny cake wasn’t the most awesome gift I received.
There was also this card from Lindsey.
She wrote inside it in silver, so the photo didn’t turn out that well, but she promised that if we become sister wives I can be the third.
(Everyone knows that’s the best sister wife to be.)
(‘Cause you don’t want to be alone with the man and you don’t want to be the wedge.)
(Really, it’s as if you guys haven’t devoted hours and hours of your life to watching a reality TV series on this very subject.)
(Better time management people.)
I opened a tiny black box to find this present from Anna.
It’s by far the best thing she’s ever given me.
Not including, of course, the promise of her first child.
(I’m the Rumpelstiltskin of my group of friends.)
(Shockingly, my computer doesn’t know how to correctly spell Rumpelstiltskin.)
(I knew things would fall apart after Jobs left.)
If blog-themed underwear doesn’t say “I’m thrilled you’re still alive,” I just don’t know what does.
Underwear presents are the best
They’re up there with private islands or smoothies,
p.s. If you’re wondering what my mom bought me, it was a smart phone.
No longer shall I be shamed by the ignorant phones of my past.
And I’ve also now become addicted to Instagram, so if you’re on it you should totally follow me.
Assuming you have a secret desire for me to look at your photos and add inane commentary.
(You know you do.)