It was my birthday, bitches.

SO,  Of course, I wore this shirt.

 
 This was the 12th year of giving myself a birthday party. Sure, the hubby helps with some of the details, and ideas... and he does has the final say on the cost, but mostly, I think about a party I'd like to get invited to and then I make that happen for my friends. If you don't get my annual newsletter, you may have read about some of these past parties here or here or seen a video here, or just stalked the pictures on one of my Facebook pages. It's ok. Everyone has a secret.

I figured there was no better way to turn 51, than to make sure a great deal of beer was involved. Enter the date selection of MARCH 15. The closest Saturday to the biggest green beer holiday in the USA.

 So, of course,we rented a bus. Not the big charter thing that took us to the Sweetwater Festival and the comedy club a few years back, but a super cool party bus for 40. Check it out.

We picked up some leprechauns, loaded up a bucket of beers, filled the coolers with booze and  donned the green.

The entrance fee for the party bus was a bottle of vodka per couple. Some people thought that was too much vodka. Some people don't know Linda very well yet. This is me mixing up the first lemon drop shots.

                                           Happy smiling people.

 We went off searching for this. The elusive layered jello shot of Ireland.

Getting closer.

 Here we are, arriving at Mac McGee's where the doorman assured us he needed no ID or cover charge. "Not if you're pulling up in that!" he said.

 We took our green decor seriously, even the bus laser light show cooperated.

We danced a jig  as the Highlanders played, or wait, something smelled funny.

These guys cut a wide path through the bar

especially with the slam banging drummer with his big guns... and gut. ;)

 Back in the bus. The stickers say, "It's all about Linda." The hubster's idea.

 Cheese!

Wait.  Is that an empty cup? GARCON!

                       Our bus was famous. Look! It's Lady Gaga and George Clooney!

This dude really wanted a ride. We wanted to know what was under his kilt.

This might be direction giving, or dollar drying, or dance instructions...

      Lots of people stopped me to read my shirt. I met an awful lot of Teds.

On our way to the next stop, things got a little blurry.

       Kinda like this guy's fashion sense. But he sure pulled the ladies.

We met a few dogs. This one had 4 legs. Very long legs.

Our new gal pal was not shy about showing off her large assets.

Somewhere along the way, I needed to be fed. Swear that was a french fry.

                                      Photo op!  I have missed these girls.

                               
                                       Why yes, there was dancing.

                           
                                   And for once, I was glad to see the cops.

This is what happens when the big dog leaves, and we miss him.

Surgeon General reports excessive partying may cause orange beard growth.

 Right on time, the bus arrives to scoop us up.

                Here we are moments later, sounding off  for a head count.

Oops. We left one behind. Time to initiate Mission Saving Private Barry.

The entertaining of the troops.

                                                            'Nuf said.

Back home, we had a birthday tart.

With all these... tarts!

There was also cake.

Glad the number of candles wasn't exact...

                      What a fun day. Thanks to all my old and new friends.

                                     Now, let's have a little karaoke time.

Oh yes, we did.

If I was going to sum up the 51st birthday in one picture.

It would have to be this.

                                                Until next year, bitches.

Trucks. A word every toddler has trouble saying.

This year, I went to MATS in Louisville Kentucky for the second time.
You might be saying, Linda, I had no idea you were a truck enthusiast, and I would tell you- DArlin' you hardly know me.
 You probably don't know I have been compiling interviews with long haul truck drivers for over a year, that I have teamed up with photographers to take portraits of the drivers, mostly working with this talented fireball, all to create a slick photo essay book called, We Brought It .You Bought It. 

It is our desire to bring greater understanding to the average Joe about these road warriors- the long haul trucker, whose life is lived on the road. They are not at all what or who you think. Believe me.

 SO, yes, I drove 7 hours to walk end to end of a huge convention center for three days. But wait, you ask, Was there Beer?
 Well, hell yeah.


 and also:

I saw some old friends... like Granny and Snuffy Smith

and made some new ones like Mush Mouth

   Sure it was a working trip. But we saved up one night to go play here:


 


                                      we did not dance on the bar like this guy, oh don't act so surprised

we did dance with Norwegians, like this, Go Angela!

And  there was some interesting "karaoke-esque" moments while singing along at the piano bar while this guy ( below) played and we drank with Lars #1 who thought the words to the song were "Sweet Town Alabama." Southern Rock is very popular in Norway. We tried to avoid getting dragged around on the dance floor by the short man with the chubby kilt-wearing girlfriend, a man who was convinced he was the life of the party.

AND as every trip I take must...  A. give me a story or character to take home B. teach me something that I can share with others C. remind me of something I already knew. or D. pleasantly surprise me

This time: It was all of the above, culminating with a wedding. An authentic Cherokee ceremony with singers and drummers and an officiating Chief. In a parking lot of semis. With a very brief reception as the killer storm blew in and sent everyone running. I would say that might be a sign of future marital trouble, but as these two have almost ten marriages between them- including once prior to each other, I think they have plenty of experience, to weather any storm.