I hate my birthdays. The thought of getting older always makes me sick to the gut and pulls my spirits down. Two months ago, eager beaver me was actually planning to have a party at a bhangra bar but as the day drew closer, the idea of a low key no-pressure affair won. So last Friday was spent at Gotham screaming our throats hoarse at the stripping hunky dory dancers. We also paid the hottest dude S to do a private lapdance on Ames who'd be leaving S'pore for Melbourne soon - a last dance she'd never forget. All of us ended up laughing and pissing in our pants as she was terrorised by S who grabbed her hair and pushed her face to his sweaty naked chest and crotch.
The next day, my classmates went to la festa di A (who was celebrating his 2nd year in S'pore - apparently as a Brazilian, he'd jump at celebrating everything) and then we ended up at a Hindi bar at Circular Road. For those who have never been to an Indian bar, go! It's great fun jiggling and clapping to the Bollywood soundtracks and observing how the nubile dancers flirt with the customers. One of whom was so drunk and had perhaps failed to notice that his member was poking through a well-positioned gap in his pants. 
Si, I thought it was the whisky playing tricks on my eyes so I elbowed Q next to me and asked her 'Is that a left ball?' She took a look and in all seriousness said 'No, a testicle is darker. That is his *knowing look*.' Deliberate or not, we had been flashed. Nice. We had a 'ball' of a time nonetheless! On Sunday, F cooked up a storm to celebrate our 32nd birthdays (me and her hubby) and I had double servings of the cioccolato rum torta. Hmmm. As I blew out the candle and made a wish, I prayed that it'd come true like my wish a year ago (the scholarship lah)! Pray hard for me that I'd have the cake and eat it too. 
On the actual day on lunedi, I got a shocker when 2 bouquets of flowers arrived for me at work - one from Cris, my Romanian pal (xie xie ni!) and another from sweet Ames. The girls also ambushed me with a song and gave me a lovely hamper of Italian cibo e vino! Che simpatiche! All day I also got sms greetings from friends but the ultimate shocker was when A called from Spoleto. I nearly fainted when I saw his incoming call flashing on my cell. He actually remembered! Madonna! I was so nervous I promptly forgot all my italiano when I heard his warm familiar voice on the other line, saying 'Tanti auguri! E' oggi, no?' (Many wishes, it's today no?) When I told him 'ho vinto la borsa di studio', his reply was 'che bravissima' and we arranged to meet up this settembre. Elena, la mia cara ragazza, also sms me and had kindly sent a novel; un romanzo 'Cercasi Niki Disperatamente' di Federico Moccia. Spero che possa capirlo!
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