Monday, February 7, 2011

Happy Birthday, Diggy.

Today you turn 27. I wish I could be with you celebrating and throwing down like old times...guess we'll just have to wait until 2013. Much love being sent your way. Happy birthday.

Dearest Diggy,
I have no doubt that this will make you cry. I'm not sure if it will make you cry from a) laughing, b) sadness, or c) a smidgen of both, but you will have salty water dripping down your cheeks. And I will gladly take the blame.

Just be thanking your lucky stars that I'm not making this post into a drinking game.

It's been 364 days since we last saw each other, since we last lived together, since we last dealt with the Howard boys or the epic snow together. And how our lives have changed. You are saving lives and learning new words that have too many consonants in them for me to comprehend, come on ibishyimbo? We both know that isn't real. I am living in the city that you raved about and volunteered in post Katrina - the city that I resisted for so long.

But now I'm here. Living it. And wishing you were here with me. You're in a far off land, doing things that I'm so proud of, but I still wish you were sitting next to me on the sofa watching marathons of Dexter. Or listening to me go on about the latest "hot" new album that I have found. Or gchatting me explaining excel data spreadsheet that is currently ruining your after work plans. We could be sharing a bag of Oreos - you could be driking milk and I could be, well, not drinking milk.

How about a shot or two of Jameson at GC? Or a pizza at RR? I'd even go for a dollar beer at McFaddens.

This is getting a little awkward, it's starting to sound like a love letter.
How about you just hop on a flight and we can grab beignets and a beer together...I know a really great place on Magazine...

Don't worry, I'm still saving third bedroom for you.


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