Cougar No More

Matt finally joined me in the thirties club last week which means he can stop bugging me about being a cougar. I couldn't hope to live up to the surprise that he gave me for my birthday, but I wanted to do something special for him, so my friend Kristina and I threw a joint 30th birthday party for Matt and her husband Scott (who turns 30 this week).

We began by having everyone channel their inner Barney Stinson and join us for laser tag. It was the ten of us, about 5 innocent-looking middle school girls and what seemed like 75 loud, smelly 13-year-old boys. The boys dominated (me, at least) and I have the feeling that the girls were preyed upon by most of us. Survival of the fittest, people.


Matt was smiling at me for this photo, then they said we could go into the "arena" so he abruptly turned around and left me. Always young at heart, I guess.


After laser tag, we headed back to our house for all of the guys' favorite artery-clogging food. We had Portillo's beef, Two Brothers pulled pork and Taylor Street (aka Capri) pizza. Plus about 10 types of candy and maybe 20 different desserts. I really should have taken pictures of the spread.

We had a game where we listed the descriptions of 4 types of beer (again from Two Brothers) and they had to guess which was which. Matt and Kevin tied with 100% each.


Then we had a pinata. Why not? Brooke got to go first, then each of the birthday boys.


Candy!


We sang "Happy Birthday."



And the guys rounded out the night with a finger of Scotch. Because that's a mature, distinguished drink. That makes Matt gag.


I hope that the party showed just a fraction of how grateful I am to have such a funny, supportive, loving man in my life. Brooke and I are very blessed.