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Beefcake To Cheesecake To... Dumbledorecake?
Happy Birthday to me!

OK, OK. My birthday was like two months ago. But the stuff Neal originally had planned for me turned out to fall right in the middle of my sister's visit, and there literally hasn't been a free weekend since. Until this past Saturday.

First, Neal and I got a little dressed up, then went to Miami. We arrived in South Beach, and I happened to notice a Betsey Johnson (my most favorite designer) store near where we parked. Because Neal is soooo slick, he walks me by once to torture me before leading me inside.

And I got to pick out any dress I wanted. It was like Candyland for fasionistas.

I tried on about 6, while the salesladies pulled and tugged and made suggestions and stood there thinking that Neal is the best boyfriend ever and hoping I'll hang myself on a rhinestone strap or choke on a beaded hem so they could have him for their very own. I could tell. Bitches. But I didn't, and I picked out a gorgeous black sequiny, beady, strappy thing that now has a date with my company Christmas party. And whenever Neal wants me to wear it. And I may wear it to watch TV tonight - I'm not sure yet.

Next, we checked in at the Cheesecake Factory and walked around Coconut Grove. The Grove is this very cute area with great shops and live music. The funny thing is, it's surrounded by shittyass 'hoods.

Soon, we were sitting down to a yummy meal of tons of good food. When I say "tons," I mean "enough food to feed an 8th grade basketball team for a week." We're talking about Jack and The Beanstalk Giant portions.

Shortly after Neal and I ordered, a table full of about a dozen men in their mid-20s, accompanied by one dude in his 60s, sat down next to us. Neal and I did that people-watching game where you tried to figure out their "deal." Like, what brought that group of people here, now?

Neal's best guess was that they were in the military together, and old dude was their leader. They were mostly beefy, strapping men with very short hair. The only thing throwing that theory off was one guy with bleached blonde hair, and another with long, greasy hair. They just didn't fit.

Finally, Neal's like, "Stop looking!"

I replied, "I'm being subtle about it."

But Neal pointed out that he was watching me stare at a table packed with muscley men. Oh, yeah.

Next thing I know, our water walks up holding my dulce de leche cheesecake and says to the table of beefcakes, "OK, guys. I need you to help sing Happy Birthday to this girl. Here name's 'Jamie.'"

My brain: "Jamie, huh? That's my name. Wait. SHIT! They're talking about me."

Neal grinned gleefully as the room sang and I muttered things like, "You bastard..." under my breath. But damn, that was some good cheesecake.


We went and saw the HARRY POTTER MOVIE. And it was wonderful. I know I'm not original in this comment, but it was like my imagination was being smeared all over a movie screen in front of me, for the most part.

Full review to come. Surprise, surprise.

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