i'm a simple girl. i like clothes, i like my super cool friends, and i like pretty things. so when it comes to a birthday celebration, i'm good with a cute dress, the fabulous people in my life, and maybe a candle shoved into a brownie.
but, here's a little secret: if you want to make me reallllly happy, as in fall-in-love-with-you, i'll-give-you-a-piece-of-my-soul happy, feed me breakfast. that being said, i don't think i could have asked for anything more on the big day than the best hangover feast of all time. after slowly waking up, we peeled ourselves out of bed and headed out to find the mythical american breakfast diner in the heart of paris' latin quarter. the line was down the block, and we waited impatiently for what felt like the longest hour of my life, but it was worth every painful second.
angela, flat lion, and her veggie omelette, 4 pieces of toast, 2 orders of home fries, & 3 orders of bacon...no biggie.
i couldn't decide what i wanted (surprised?), so i continued on with the theme of the weekend and got it all: omelette, home fries, endless coffee, oj, and a plate of pancakes the size of my face. all conversation ended when the food arrived, and even if we wanted to, neither of us were able to form words let alone string them into sentences by the time we finished everything on our plates. after saying goodbye to mo as she left for the airport, ang and i stumbled home food drunk, and then slept the rest of the day away.
and that, ladies and gents, is the story of the greatest. birthday. ever.
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