The One with the Birthday

Jesus, 29?  How can this be?  I feel like a kid.  But 29 isn’t kiddily at all, is it?

Anyway, we had a few friends out to dinner at Canton, and it was good.

Finite Morgan recursion.
My new favourite t-shirt.

A declaration of ownership, in a manner of speaking.
My new favourite tattoo.

The Dylan
An underexposed Dylan.  I’d rather have a dark photo than use a flash, you see.  It mostly works, as long as I get my settings right.

Francois and Melanie.
Francois and Melanie.  One of the waitresses was playing with his baby at the time.
Karl & Louise
Karl trying to get Louise drunk.

Cthulu?  Is that you?
This is either Matteo, or Cthulu.  I’m hoping for the latter, the sooner we have our souls devoured, the sooner the pain is over.

Mmmmmmmmm, so chickeny, so lemony.
Lemon chicken.  Very good, but not as good as the crispy roast pork (shutter speed was too slow to capture that, it was all gone in under 1/60th of a second.

Anyway, today I’ve been binging on birthday cake-pie-pudding – banana cream style.  Awww yeah

Everyone who came: thank you.  Everyone who didn’t make it…  Maybe next time, eh?

2 thoughts on “The One with the Birthday”

  1. My only consolation is that you’re already so far down that hill that when I hit the bottom, there’ll be something to break my fall.

    I really preferred being about 24.

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