Happy Birthday

Today Robert, Sarah, and I went to the Lotte Department Store (Lotte Beyolk Ja in Korean) to see Pirates of the Carribean 3. I was really excited to see Keith Richards. I love Keith. Unfortunately, every show was sold out until midnight. Not the type of folks to be thwarted, we decided to get some T.G.I.F, be Americans, and then go bowling.

Bowling was too rad. The last time I went bowling was at the Hollywood Lanes on the Boulevard, so I was fairly out of practice - add bowling balls that didn't fit my fingers, and you have a rather bad bowler. I did manage to throw 6 strikes though. Robert hit a couple too. That was funny. He had absolutely no form.

"Get lower to the ground," I told him. "Bend your knees!"

"Hey!" he barked. "We're here to have fun."

"Sure, fun, but no one said we couldn't bowl like gazelles."

That became my motto from then out. I would say shit like "Not Jazelle, but gazelle" or "Don't think Ra Belle, Think Ga Zell." It cracked Sarah up. I was glad. We were all pretty hung over from the Spring Festival, so we all needed an extra smirk or two to make it through the second round.

CLUNK!

Gutter balls were Robert's staple throughout the night. He was very happy though. He wanted to stay all night. It was hard to pull him away, especially with how funny his shotput style of bowling made me giggle and feel alive. We had to get going though. I was having trouble staying awake. I needed some cave time, and maybe a quick shimmy to some Rolling Stones - they always do it for me!

So here I am now danced out and feeling quite cushy. I'm thinking about how much I like writing, my friends, and my life. What's up?

Tomorrow I want to run and get sweaty. I like to sweat. I might even run, until I look like Forrest Gump.

Happy Birthday, Buddha.

Happy Birthday, Me.

Happy Birthday, You.

Hearts are like sleeveless tanktops inside a dentist's curfew for plaque removal.
Sporks are fever blisters raked over cum stained sheets.
The best I can do on the highway is raise my hand over my head.
"Get real!" "Get false!" "Get out!" the Chorus adds.
I don't argue with words anymore.
I am fun like Capitol P.
"Shed your shorts!" "Give me that bra!" "Keep that thong!"
No thoughts will stop this animal, Grrr.
Too many gifts to sit with an empty box.
So we growl and tear.
Our hands above us on the highway:
"Tutu!" "Too Real" Tofu!"
Forever and we've got a riot underway.
"Here," you say. "Hold this."
"I've got enough rainbow."
Strawberries to make it glow.
Sulfur to bring us home.
Our hitchiking days, Our daze, This craze.
No more to make it hurt.
Just keep this bow.
Tie it up again.
A happily shipwrecked melody.
An anchored heart.
Blossoms and magnolia.
Wind blows.
Far.

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(Sunny Breaks took the photo above from our trip to watch the Paper Lantern Parade for Buddha's Birthday in Insadong. Isn't he a wonderful photographer?)