Anatomy lesson

So, I've been thinking and I am all but convinced that where my wife ought to have a husband she instead has an asshole. Take that how you might but I believe it has been proven empirically sound. It's scientific. If God hadn't been killed by The Golden Compass (see 2 entries ago) He'd have made it a commandment. I won't indulge this further because, even though an ass, I am no idiot.

Here are a couple of photos from April's birthday celebration at Buca downtown. It was an interesting place. I'd never been before this party. The food was good, what I might call "homestyle Italian" -- cheesy, fatty, meaty. That detracts from the real occasion, which was of course April's birthday. She was extremely happy with close friends in attendance and an evening away from Sylvia. After all, poop links with oregano atop a bed of pasta al fresco are fine when you're among friends. (I, of course, found something to gripe about and that is all I have to say about that.)

Smiles all around.

Angela's beautiful birthday cake. Buca has a policy prohibiting non-storebought cakes from being served. Does this bloody cake look less than professionally baked and decorated?! At least the server let us light candles and sing the birthday ditty. (Isn't the coolest thing about singing 'Happy Birthday' in a restaurant the way your group can silence everyone else in the joint?)

Fast forward to date night, Sat, Dec 1. With snow falling we opted to take the bus downtown. Tickets to the symphony at Orchestra Hall. It was a great show, featuring solo performers. Afterward we hit Brit's to rub elbows with the Trendies. Better than any food or drink consumed were two things: the company of April and the steady, incessant snowfall that went on all night. Thank you, on both counts.

My wife might still need a transplant to supplant that asshole presence where her husband ought to be. I think I'm gonna check and see if our new insurance policy at work will cover such a procedure.