FlowerOver the weekend it was my birthday, my 33rd to be exact. Earlier in the month my husband asked me if I wanted to do anything special for it. Since it wasn’t a big one (21, 25, 30, 35, 40, etc.) I said no, just to go out with dinner or something, nothing huge since it was on a Sunday.

Turns out I ended up actually having some plans.

On Saturday night my husband and I went to dinner at my most favorite place in Omaha, Rivera’s, with another couple. It was as usual, crazy delicious.

Afterwards, my besties decided to throw me a Cab and Canvas party at one of their casa’s. A cab and canvas party includes painting and drinking wine, fyi (I made the flower painting. My mom always thought I should’ve been an art teacher. If I didn’t know better I’d think she was high all the time). Apparently it’s the new thing to do, we are so trendy. Also at this party my husband drank half a bottle of Mezcal (which my husband has repeated scolded me “It’s not the same thing as tequila!”) and drank the scorpion in the bottom of said bottle.

[VIDEO: Matt Baum drinks a Scorpion.]

So, you know, good times right there. My husband got totally wasted in his quest to become the god damn scorpion king, that I had to leave my party to drive his drunk ass home. Not only did I have to leave MY PARTY, ahem, he made me stop at Burger King and order him a 10 piece chicken nuggets snack (someone needed second dinner or as Taco Bell calls it “fourth meal”) on the way home as well.

The next morning, Sunday, was my actual birthday and I was going to be hella-mad if my husband was sick on MY BIRTHDAY. This might seem selfish to you all, but I mean all I ask is that one weekend, ONE WEEKEND, he drive me through the Burger King drive through so I can get those %&#^ing nuggets. Anyway, I had to get a long run in that morning because my half marathon training is ruining my life, and at this time my husband kept asking me when I’d be back. I assumed it was so he could go out and buy my some birthday cupcakes or something birthday esq. It was not. He was hungry and wanted lunch. When I returned eight torturous miles later he was just on the couch playing Tiger Woods Golf on the Xbox. There were no cupcakes. I repeat, NO CUPCAKES! After I made note of these no cupcakes he said, he’d be sure to take me to Jones Bros. Cupcakes later and he’d get me some. Remember that, it’s important.

After a late brunch, we ended up at a bar with some friends for some afternoon birthday day drinks. On our way home to make my birthday dinner, my husband took me to get cupcakes. He pulled up in front of Jones Bros. and had me jump out of the car to go get cupcakes. I HAD TO BUY MYSELF BIRTHDAY CUPCAKES. No words, I have no words. The only other time recently I can remember not having any words was when that fool Justin Bieber wrote that he hoped that Anne Frank (yes, THAT Anne Frank) would’ve been a Belieber. I hate people.

Well Kacie, those are minor things, he probably got you a super stellar gift so that makes up for it. Well Girl Meets Nerd readers, he says he got me a stellar gift, in fact I’m allegedly receiving a new pair of boots. When? Who knows. They apparently were out of stock. Lovely. At least he tried, right?

Oh, but wait. This reminds me of a gift of birthday’s past, when my husband bought me a ^%*$ing tree.

Yes, a tree. Now I’m all for saving the earth, I recycle, ride my bike, turn lights off, but I don’t recall ever asking for a god damn tree as a present. I came home this birthday afternoon, years ago (I still worked at the YMCA) and in my front yard was a tree. I asked my husband why we had a new tree in our yard. My husband was so proud and said, “It’s for you. It’s your birthday gift!” I stood there shocked. Then finally replied, “You got me a tree for my birthday? A tree?”

“It symbolizes our love,” he innocently responded.

“You got me a love tree?!!!! I wanted high heels!” (I know I seem ungrateful, but I was young, every girl wants high heels in their 20’s. Give me a break!).

I love my husband very much, but he is not a very good at birthday’s. In fact, I think it runs in the Baum genes. Case in point, my father-in-law sent me a text message wishing me a happy birthday five days before my actual birthday. While I’m at it, my husband also thought I was turning 35 this year (rude, I don’t look a day over 27) and up until two years ago couldn’t tell you my actual birthday. You guys, no words, again, I have no words…sigh…

Kacie Baum is a professional partier, mother of two pugs, and the wife of Matt Baum. She tolerates the constant presence of the Two-Headed Nerd in her home each week. She did not write this bio. Pre-THN entries of Girl Meets Nerd can be found here.