On the morning of my birthday, I put on my birthday skirt and picked up a package, from my parents, at the post office. Inside the box was a puppy. A miniature corgi, to be specific. It wasn’t a real puppy, don’t worry, though the dog did “breath.”
I brought the dog to my office and it was a hit. We named him (RJ) and set him, his dog biscuits, and his water bowl by the door to fool all that walked by. My co-workers asked why my parents would buy me, an adult, a fake puppy for my birthday. Fair.
Well… my sister has four corgis and I dislike them all. They dislike me too. Ginger growls at me. Knowing my distaste for my sister’s dogs, what choice did my parents have than to send me a weird daily reminder of them?
In addition to a fake puppy, my parents sent me a Dora the Explorer calendar. I’m 28, what would be more appropriate? Nicely played, Mom and Dad.
After work and carrot cake (my favorite), my coworkers/friends (they are one in the same when you work for my firm) and I went to La Revolucion in Fountain Square. The decor is Dia de los Muertos-esque with a sprinkle of luchador. I love Dia de los Muertos paraphernalia and so it was perfect. It was far enough from the crazies of downtown Indy/Super Bowl Village to enjoy a semi-calm night with friends, skeletons, and margaritas.