As Andrew W.K Says: Party 'Til You Puke

So I’m planning a party for my ex-husband’s belated birthday party this coming Saturday. Called all the peeps, deciding on what to make, to buy. Thankfully I've worked out what I'm wearing.

I got t-shirts made with iron-on logos in the front commemorating the day. Well, not really the day, but just a nickname Death calls Mike. I call him Ack. Death calls him Peenut. My print broker thought the spelling was off; it suggested a leaky ball. I think that was Death's design. I kept the actual design to a cute little line drawing. The shirts are wicked. We all have our pet names on the back, with our special numbers we're particularly attached to. Mine is Sunshine 33. Death's is Death 13 and Ack's is Peenut 36. Yay! I was so delighted when the t-shirt guy applied all the letters and numbers. What a treat. It's better than seeing yourself on television!

Suddenly I find myself feeling a little better about circumstances. No, I still don’t have the love I want, but it is really great to have some of those people that you think are God’s gift to the world come over to your house for a one night event. I think this party will be just as important for me as it will be for Ack.

And my sweet Fergus is coming! Yay!