Birthday Weekend Pictures.

I turned 28 on the 17th. It was pretty epic.

My necklace says, "Indi Rocks" and she does!





David and Lisa!




Emily, and Joe's book.


David brought the cake! From Flatbush! That shit was good! And it very nearly fell off the table about ten times, so it was a very lucky cake to be saved so many times.


The next day, I defied the odds and wasn't hungover. Then we went to the museum, to learn about SCIENCE. Emily is enjoying STEGOSAURUS.


They brains be little.




Awesome views from the 7 train.


Emily hates my birthday.

America's B-Day, 2007 style.

The Fourth of July was grand.


First, there was a barbecue:



And then we went to the Long Island City waterfront:



And then Brendan and I were like, WTF Joe, you make that face in EVERY photo:



And then there were fireworks:







And then we just kept drinking and drinking. I had a vendetta against my liver (what did it ever do to me!).

ALSO, Brian made the best burgers I've ever had: He shoved bleu cheese, garlic cloves, and sundried tomatoes into the beef and then put cheddar cheese ontop and omg I loved it so much I married my burger.

I feel compelled to point out everyone is wearing a coat-- mostly because it was unseasonably cool. Joe had his sheepskin coat, for crying out loud.

Tonight, a portrait of my train.

Tonight was awesome! I went to a party! And someone broke a lamp from playing wii! And on the train home some 13 year old white kid was loudly proclaiming to his friend that "YO the WHITE BITCHES AT MY SKOOL IS SKEEZES CUZ THEY DONT LIKE WHITE GUYS. And yo i be like YO BITCH I WHITE and they YO YO YO dont fuck with me they be like OH I GONE FUCK WITH PUERTO RICAN FUCKERSSSSS" and the spanish girl across the way from me and I were fucking dying. His friend was privy to the joke, he kept looking over, aware that we were dying in peels of laughter, but like a good friend, didn't let on, to embarass his friend who kept going on and on: "YO THIS BE AT THIS BITCH'S PARTY OK???? BUT HER MOM AIN'T BE THERE...."

The girl, the kid, and I all got off at 36th street, and she and I kept trying to stifle laughter as he walked stiff-legged, trying to hold his pants up, because he subscribed to the 1994 edict that thou must walk with thou pants half-off. They seriously were (A. 2 sizes too small and (B. Halfway down his legs. It was terrible. I resisted the urge to ask if his leg was hurt and instead she and I bonded and giggled until he was out of sight. We are now BFF.