The Three Wise Men: Kermit, Ken, and Pickles

I realize I've been a bit of an absentee blogger these days. I apologize for the flagrant neglect. Allow me to share the highlights of the last month for which I was MIA...

1. The last few weeks of classes involved many all-nighters in carrel 3, which ended in a teriyaki beef jerky-smelling blaze of glory.
2. Finals week was a piece of cake after the total clusterbomb that was the last week of classes. Can you say 3 papers totaling 72 pages submitted within 3 days? After that, finals week was a breeze. Until...
3. I got sick as I was finishing my last final paper, and so I celebrated the end of the semester with a fever and sore throat, accompanied by my friends Tylenol and Ricola - their parents thought they'd be pretty unique and clever with names like that.
4. Home.
5. Christmas.
6. Blizzard.

And here we are, my 28th birthday. Reflecting on this day, I can't help but point out that all my friends are having babies (and they are adorable, precious, wonderful little blessings) and all I have is acne. On every birthday, for about the last five years, I have asked myself how old I need to be to no longer have acne. Apparently an age that rounds up to 30 is not old enough. And apparently stubbornness is not something you grow out of, either, so Proactiv can just STOP IT already with those commercials during my favorite, trashy MTV and VH1 reality shows; I'm not taking the bait, you vultures - preying on poor, late-20s women whose faces are minefields! Shame on you...

And then, today, someone pointed out that MAYBE my life has been cursed since March 2006 when Pickles asked me to be the McCartyville St. Patty's Day Queen and I said "no" (sidebar - if you do NOT know about McCartyville St. Patty's Day, you don't know what it means to live) (oh, and if you don't know who Pickles is, you are a nobody - sorry). He warned my mom that no one had ever said "no" to him before and I needed to change my plans. I did not comply. And now I am 28, single, with acne, writing a blog post about my beef jerky-smelling 9' x 14' carrel. What a life.

So let's turn to brighter days: the first five years of my life. You know, back in the days when I didn't have a care in the world. The days when my biggest decision was which outfit in which to dress my Barbie. The days when my hair was naturally blonde. The days when I didn't have to pay my own bills or even dress myself. The days when I thought acne was that company that Wile E. Coyote bought all his contraptions from.

How about my very 1st birthday?

And I'm pretty stoked in this one!

And you can't tell, but I'm dancing like a maniac with the only man I'll ever love - Kermit the Frog - on my 2nd birthday

And on my 5th birthday, I upgraded from Kermit to Ken, in his snazzy tuxedo, which was SO fashionable in 1989.

Tonight, I am sure to revert to adorable, childhood Emily: I will get really excited over gifts, I will make crazy faces, I will dance like a maniac, and I will find that Ken in a shiny silver, pink, and white tuxedo with perfect, plastic, newscaster hair. And he will be mine until I try to pop his head or one of his limbs off, after which, 1989 Ken will be totally beyond repair (now mid-90s Ken, he would survive that).

Peace, love, and happy birthday to me--

Emily