It’s just a cake. It’s just a birthday cake.

Hey kids.

It’s my birthday in two days, and as such I’ve been gifted with some pretty sweet swag from Sephora:

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Seriously, all you need to do is purchase one expensive blush there ONE TIME, and two years later they’re still giving you free stuff!

Now that is the kind of relationship I can get behind.

So yes, this Sunday I turn twenty-eight years old, which officially vaults me into the “late-twenties” catagory.

This is fabulous, because it means that my actual age is finally catching up to what I feel to be my “inner age” – a number that I imagine hovers somewhere around seventy-two, give or take a few tubes of Polydent.

GET OFF MY LAWN YOU YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPERS!

Ahem.

Meanwhile, my “outer age” seems to be suffering from a whacked-out case of Benjamin Buttons, as I can’t seem to go anywhere without getting IDed.

Just the other day I was carded at 7-11 while trying to buy a one dollar scratch and win.

(As you can imagine, my life is pretty much a continual stream of glitz and glamour.)

Of course, being me, I didn’t have any ID on me, (because who brings their whole wallet on a late-night jaunt about the neighbourhood?) so I wasn’t able to complete my purchase.

I was all: LOOK LADY – I’LL TAKE IT, BUT NEXT TIME GIVE ME THE DANG GOLD RUSH AND NO ONE GETS HURTS, YA DIG?

Then I took my can of coke and ran out of the joint laughing like a maniac.

(That didn’t actually happen.)

(OR DID IT?)

This weekend, Mr. M and I are going to gussy ourselves up for a fancy-schmancy dinner on Saturday night, and then it’s off to the familial units on Sunday afternoon for more pageantry and more importantly, some sweet, sweet Superbowl action.

(Or as myself and many others have taken to calling it: The SUPERBAUGH.)

To be honest though, I was so super (har har) bummed when Seattle was eliminated (WHY OH WHY DID YOU CALL THAT TIME OUT PETE!?) that I’m a little less than enthused about the two teams competing the finals. However, if I had to pick a team, I’m going for San Fran because I don’t think I have it in my being to actually cheer for Ray Lewis.

I cannot stand that guy.

I’ll have to wait a week to celebrate with friends, as VanComedy Fest is next Friday, but I figure what better time to jam that after some crack-up comedy?

And in the meantime…

Fry-up time!

Sister acts.

So I don’t know if you are all acquainted with the awesome Canadian power due that is Tegan and Sara (they are two sisters from Calgary, Alberta), but if you’re not, you should probably rectify this situation at once.

These gals have been making rad music for years, but their most recent release is much “poppier” than their older records, and being the pop-lover than I am, I really can’t get enough of it.

So if you have a hankering for some mad dancing about your house, please let me recommend the following:

Last weekend I was in full-on cleaning mode and I must have listened to this song well near twenty times.

Plus, this music video is pretty much exactly what I imagined every one of my birthday parties would be, during my years as a permanently love-struck, doe-eyed teenage girl.

(Unfortunately, it never did happen.)

(OR DID IT?)

Next!

Olive garden.

So the other night I returned home from work to a startlingly cold and very much empty house, what with my husband having to work late, and the temperatures hovering just above zero degree centigrade outside.

My whole neighbourhood was socked in with a low-hanging, thick, wet fog, and just walking home from skytrain had left me feeling well-soaked and completely ravenous.

After taking off my boots and putting on the fireplace, I immediately set about preparing a dinner that would both quell my hunger pains and warm-up my frigid little body.

(I may have taken a few minutes to cuddle with my kitten before commencing dinner preparations.)

The end result was a meal of spaghetti with tomatoes, olives, basil and fresh mozzarella, accompanied by crunchy French bread and a massive mug of earl grey tea (not exactly the most traditional drink, I know, but goodness knows if it wasn’t needed to rejig my sluggish circulation.)

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And it was absolutely, blooming glorious.

Onwards!

Part two.

So last week I wrote about Guy Ritchie and how much I liked Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

Well, I took many of my brilliant readers’ advice and watched Snatch, the quasi-following up to Lock Stock.

There I sat on the couch, with my spaghetti and tea, and there I laughed like a drain to end all drains.

Which is to be said, A LOT.

So thanks to you, beauty cats! Do keep the film recommendations coming – if there’s more laughing to be had, I WILL HAVE IT.

And there you have it you fab chaps! Are any of you celebrating a birthday this weekend?

I will be partying it up with my (day of birth) twin Alexei Kostitsyn.

That Belarusian doesn’t know how lucky he is.