My birthday came and went last weekend as I turned 27. Not to sound like the proverbial on-the-cusp-between-Gen X/Y-who-not-only-believes-in-the-quarter-life-crisis-but-now-is-sad-that-the-phase
No birthday extraganzas this year (the wedding and honeymoon was suffice). Instead, I was treated to a bourgie but tasty breakfast at Pacific Dining Car (the creole benedict was delish). We only go here for the breakfasts -- the decadent and too pricey but still oh so good breakfast. Mr. Jessebel gave me another example of his thoughtfulness by surprising me with a special cake. At the wedding we had a dessert bar that featured 5 different cakes. I (eventually) had a slice from all but one flavor - dulce de leche - and was little disappointed. Yeah, now you know where this is going. The cake was bombsies -- so good that I wanted to eat a piece for a late afternoon treat the following Monday but thanks to CPT, never got a chance to pack myself a slice.
A Sweet Design came through once again.
...so I ate it for breakfast instead. Tee hee.
I hate to partake in the media frenzy, but Michael Jackson's death last week was a huge shock. Seeing MTV playing his music videos, actually, playing any videos was a shock. No reflective post from this so-called blogger cause there are many (and no, I'm not going to link any). However, because the man and I are prone to old people activities like watching the Sunday morning political shows together, here's a quip from This Week with George Stephanopoulos about Jackson as a child musical prodigy that only Michael Eric Dyson could come up with from the top of his head:
"...he [was]seen as a miniature adult wrapped in this, you know, chocolate cherubic face afro halo."
First funny, then sad.