Today is not my birthday. Yesterday was not my birthday, either. But that didn't stop me from wearing a sparkly pink birthday crown through the evening at karaoke. Why? Well, the birthday girl didn't want to wear it, and since I signed her book last night, she suggested I wear it and pretend I was Katie at her birthday party. Oh, and it matched my outfit. And you just can't waste a sparkly birthday crown when it matches your outfit.

Now, before you ask, I wasn't drunk, I didn't even drink, (though I did eat more than my fair share of red velvet cake) but there I was, hot pink v-neck top and pink crown, singing like I owned the joint. And it was a busy night. Tourists wished me happy birthday so many times, I almost forgot I was born in December.

And let me just say, tourists at karaoke are a funny sight to behold. There was the pseudo cowboy, singing pitifully off-key, with his Bluetooth headset in his ear, wearing a ten gallon hat (committing a sin against cowboys everywhere by wearing sneakers instead of boots) two enormous wads of keys dangling precariously near his crotch (whether to draw attention or distract, I wasn't sure) and cuffed jeans.

Then there was the aging stripper (oh, you would have made the same assumption if you'd seen her) who danced provocatively near the stage while demanding no one take her picture because she's (and I quote) "...in the witness protection program" (insert eye roll here), then climbed on to the stage to sing (I'm using this term very loosely) the worst rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, I've ever heard. And ok, I know this makes me a terrible person, but as she belted out the lyrics in such a way that made my mother sound like Celine Dion (sorry Mom, but you know you can't carry a tune) I was singing along with my own lyrics, "whores just wanna have fah-uhn. Oh, whores just wanna have fun."

I'm sure people thought I was drunk, I was laughing so hard. And this was before the local drunken grandma got on stage to hump one of the local guys singing a ballad. So yeah, me in a birthday crown seemed somewhat normal by comparison. And that's why I love this little town. I fit right in with the crazies.

Until the next time...I'll be trying to get my dog to wear the crown for a picture.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating...men follow a completely different set of rules. Rules they surely must make up as they go along. Rules that make no sense whatsoever. Because they're men.

Tonight, Mike and I took a trip to town for a little last minute Christmas shopping combined with an outing for Mike's birthday. After an early dinner, we hit nearly every open shop in our little tourist town, including a shopping spree in the gourmet kitchen store. After paying for my purchases, I was anxious to hit the clothing boutiques before closing time. Mike was busy checking out the designer kitchen things (or the craft beers on draft, whatever, it was his birthday.) So, I told him I would be heading to the next little shop on the square. It was in the same direction we'd parked, so it was a logical choice to make. And yes, I use logic. Perhaps more complex logic than man logic, but logic nonetheless. It was important to be sure he knew where I was going because my phone had died. And yes, he knew this very important piece of information.

So, there I am in this little boutique, bumping into their displays, knocking over poinsettias, and checking out the pre-Christmas sales, (basically killing time until Mike wandered in my direction so we could leave). I have no idea how much time passed. I was chatting up the store employees, and scooping up the entire contents of my purse that had accidentally spilled onto the floor.

When the store was ready to close, I wandered back to the sidewalk to look for Mike. He was nowhere to be found. And not only was Mike missing, but the car was gone too.

Yes. The car was gone.

And yes. I'm sure I knew where we parked.

And oh, hell yes. My husband took the car and drove off, knowing my phone was dead.

So, I'm standing there on the semi-deserted sidewalk at closing time, in temperatures that had dipped below freezing, in a coat with no buttons (because my logic doesn't work like that, don't judge me) with a dead cell phone, and no husband to be found. And pissed off is an understatement of the highest order. I was livid...and not just a little freaked out.

But, being the resourceful female that I am, I flagged down a total stranger and begged them to use their cell phone (and lucky for me, I know my husband's number without hitting the auto-dial button).

He had the audacity to tell me he didn't know where I was (though I'd told him where I was going), so he decided the wisest course of action would be to move the car from the spot I would easily find it, to the spot we had been when we parted ways, assuming I would go back there to find him, even after telling him I would meet him at the boutique near the car.

And when I questioned his logic (because, let's face it, it was questionable at best) he told me it was my poor planning (letting my phone die) that caused the whole problem.

Yes, my husband is still alive. It's his birthday, after all, and I felt it would be in poor taste to kill him on his birthday, especially after he'd only just narrowly survived the coming apocalypse. It was a judgment call, not logical perhaps, but, apparently, logic isn't everything.

Until the next time...I'll be rethinking my position on the death penalty.