Birthdays for me used to basically mean at least one of three things…severe liver damage…sleeping in the bushes…or jail. More often than not, all three plus mountains of drugs and at least one fist having been smashed into or through something. Never mind the litany of apologies I’d be required to make the day after the wheels stopped spinning.
Last night was inclusive of none of the above mentioned components. It was just a great evening with my wife and two of our best friends. Dinner, Star Bar and home.
Fuckin great time.