33

I bought Joe's birthday present months ago after I checked the schedule and saw that his beloved Yankees were playing the Red Sox at home his birthday weekend.  I bought six tickets and invited some of his friends for Saturday.  Then he told me that his just-as-beloved Giants were opening against the Cowboys on his actual birthday on Sunday so he had his evening pretty much set.  Easiest birthday weekend ever and a very happy birthday boy.

As a side note, I learned, not for the first time, that Joe and I have very different priorities when it comes to sporting events.  Um, everyone doesn't make a food map of the stadium in relation to where they are sitting?

I did not actually eat all of these things, but one certainly cannot predict what one will be in the mood for in advance so a girl has to plan for all possibilities.  It's called common sense.  While Joe and his buddies were making fun of me on the train to the game for said map, a gentleman on his way to the restroom observed the map and called it genius.  Stranger validation is truly the very best kind.



Anyway, then there was the birthday cake.

 

Joe:  I want a strawberry cake.

 

me:  Okay.

 

Joe: With at least three layers.

 

me:  Okay.

 

Joe: And homemade whipped cream.

 

me:  Okay.

 

Joe:  And lots of sprinkles.

 

me:  Okay.  Anything else?

 

Joe:  Nope, that's it.

 

me:  Okay, just one last question for clarification: are you turning 33 or 10-year-old girl?

 

I love you, Joey.  I'll make you all the ridiculous, girly cakes you want forever and ever and always.  Happy 33.