So Im sitting at a bar in guadalajara
This past week has sucked major ass, but here I am, 50 minutes away from Sunday, and I'm alive. Wishing I was dead, but I'm alive. So there's that.
My money came in, finally, so my bills are paid and there is once more food in my kitchen. Yay.
I am no longer praying to all things good to not to be spawning, YAY like no one's fucking business, man.
I am back at work, which isn't really yay, but it's not nay either.
Roger's birthday is Monday. He will be a year old. Crazy fucking shit. The pups will be 2 weeks old. And a week after Roger turns one, I turn 23. Oo-da--lolly.. Yeah, I said it.
23 is the birthday of absolutely no fucking importance. Seriously, what happens when you're 23? You can already drink, and they don't lower your car insurance. So uh, whatever. At least at 24, you can wait two months and start telling people you're 25. Wait, I do that with all my birthdays..
Since it is the birthday of no fucking importance, I've kinda decided to not care that much about it. It wasn't an outright conscious decision, but that's what happened. Only now, 8 days away from the epic event, have i begun to provide the husband with a list of wants that normally, in years past, he had in January. (I'm really fucking self centered, I generally have a 5 month countdown.) However, this year, I've just been so fucking busy . ( I almost typed 'busty' there, which is also correct.) So I settled for trolling the Batman group, finding some threadless T-shirts I want, and a Natalie Dee one, and that's what I've requested.
My dad sent my birthday gift already, is odd on so many counts, but whatever. I got a camera from him. It's his old one, but whatever, it's GOT to be better than mine is (shit a Callotype would be better than mine). So Monday I hope to try that out on the pups.
My mom just called and I lost my train of thought. Oh well. I think it's bed time for me. Enjoy the rest of your weekend kids. I won't, cause I'll be selling my soul at work (during our 20th anni sale no less.)
This past week has sucked major ass, but here I am, 50 minutes away from Sunday, and I'm alive. Wishing I was dead, but I'm alive. So there's that.
My money came in, finally, so my bills are paid and there is once more food in my kitchen. Yay.
I am no longer praying to all things good to not to be spawning, YAY like no one's fucking business, man.
I am back at work, which isn't really yay, but it's not nay either.
Roger's birthday is Monday. He will be a year old. Crazy fucking shit. The pups will be 2 weeks old. And a week after Roger turns one, I turn 23. Oo-da--lolly.. Yeah, I said it.
23 is the birthday of absolutely no fucking importance. Seriously, what happens when you're 23? You can already drink, and they don't lower your car insurance. So uh, whatever. At least at 24, you can wait two months and start telling people you're 25. Wait, I do that with all my birthdays..
Since it is the birthday of no fucking importance, I've kinda decided to not care that much about it. It wasn't an outright conscious decision, but that's what happened. Only now, 8 days away from the epic event, have i begun to provide the husband with a list of wants that normally, in years past, he had in January. (I'm really fucking self centered, I generally have a 5 month countdown.) However, this year, I've just been so fucking busy . ( I almost typed 'busty' there, which is also correct.) So I settled for trolling the Batman group, finding some threadless T-shirts I want, and a Natalie Dee one, and that's what I've requested.
My dad sent my birthday gift already, is odd on so many counts, but whatever. I got a camera from him. It's his old one, but whatever, it's GOT to be better than mine is (shit a Callotype would be better than mine). So Monday I hope to try that out on the pups.
My mom just called and I lost my train of thought. Oh well. I think it's bed time for me. Enjoy the rest of your weekend kids. I won't, cause I'll be selling my soul at work (during our 20th anni sale no less.)
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
happy (belated) birfday to roger! wow. a year already.
beyond relieved for the not-yet-spawning factor! *whew*
and... i hate my birthday EVERY year, so i have no words of wisdom. 23 was a pivotal year for me, though...
catch ya at da clubhouse, babycakes!