No jail, no broken furniture- are you sure it was MY birthday?

Before y'all go wondering if I'm in jail from the confrontation with "She Who Must Not Be Named", I'm not.
My birthday started out wonderfully. Mike presented me with a card in all my morning-glory-bed-headedness, which announced that not only did I get a gift certificate to get my hair done but that my appointment was for 11:30 THAT DAY! We went to breakfast and did a little party shopping where afterward I jumped in the shower because I did not want to get my hair did in some fancy say-lon looking all homeless. About 15 minutes before my scheduled departure the dreaded doorbell rang. I opened it, told her that she had to leave now. She gave me a card and I reiterated that she had to leave and promptly shut (and locked) the door in her face. That was it, she left. I haven't opened the card and probably won't as there isn't anything she can say to make a difference. Then, I got my hair done. Three hours later I came home with the most awesome drastic swing bob with purple low-lights. Yes, I said purple!
Then it was party time! I would go into details but I don't think y'all would believe me anyway. I'll just leave it at yesterday was pronounced, Recovery Day.