This party is brought to you by the letter P

Phil's birthday was last weekend, and the man deserved a party. If only for putting up with me for the rest of the year.

When I suggested having a party to him he shrugged and said "If you wanna organise it...."

So organise it I did. I have never been one for throwing parties for myself (in fact I haven't had a decent birthday party since I was 7, and even then it was a joint party with my little sister), but I thought I could throw a party for Phil.

The first thing he needed was a theme. Knowing my love of alliteration ("Always Avoid Alliteration"), I decided on "Phil's Pimping Party"... all Patrons to arrive as Pimps or Prostitutes... basically to wear flashy clothes and jewelry, It's the best we could do in down-town Shanghai. The alternative was "Phil's Pooping Party", and knowing I would be cleaning up the next day.. well, no...

The following is the result:









I'm not sure where the feather boas came into it all, but it sure did make a mess. The next morning the house looked like we had been ritually sacrificing (pink) chickens... just what you want to clean up the morning after a party.

By the end of the night us girls (the ones still left!) were so tired of hitching our skirts down, and in agony from ridiculous heels, that this was the best we could manage:

I think we're getting old!

We did invite our Chinese friends too, but I think they took one look at the invitation and ran screaming into Russia, as did many others of our friends. We are indeed a bunch of debased foreigners.

Thanks to Daniela and Kim Tien for the photos... our photos are still on Phil's camera, and if the Montreal photos are anything to go by, they'll still be there next Christmas.