I'm 18. This is no Baskin-Robbins cake event, this is huge. I mean, wow, 18. I can vote (note to self: register tomorrow when the post office opens), buy lottery tickets (right after registering to vote), and buy rifles (no need for that... yet). And best of all, I get to travel by myself, minus Tubby. First time, Hollywood, Florida -- tomorrow. My flight leaves at 6:40am to take me to the Sunshine State. All by my lonesome! (Lonesome is a good thing, unless you're a single chick, in which case, I do enjoy company...)

But first, my birthday party. Figuring lots of people think I'm a stuffed animal, I rounded up a bunch of people and took them to Build-a-Bear, just so they could see what a stuffed animal was, and how infinitely different I am.

It all started with the 10 of us walking in the door, and Tubby telling Chelsea (a dear girl with china blue eyes) that yes, the scheduled party was for me, Frank... the duck under Tubby's right arm. From there...

To lead the human types in the adventure, I first chose a bear to make as a sample for the others.	That done, time to stuff 'em. Of course, I was too small to work the pedal, so Chelsea helped me.	From there, put your wings in the air like you just don't care, and we're off to the bathtub area.
Okay, not really a bathtub -- it's a place to blow off the stray hair off. (Lindsay gave me a bath for fun.)	This unnamed, handsome devil helped me decide on an outfit for my bear with a mini-fashion show.	I settled on an outfit, but no scrubs here... no hollerin' from the window of your best friend's ride...
(Oh yeah, of course, there's a group picture of the entire gang, but for reasons of privacy, and one who's in some sort of witness protection program (second from left, back row), no names are provided. Except my bear, whom I named 53. Why 53? (a) why not?, (b) it's a prime, prime number, (c) it's my birthday, (d) just because I can.