My birthday.

There's no escaping it; it's my birthday. I am 28. I don't feel older. I really could care less how old I am. If other people didn't make a deal out of it I wouldn't even say a word about my birthday. I do appreciate the attention and I love my friends who go out of their way to give me 'gratz, but no more than I love talking to my friends any other day. Once again, I just fail to see the significance. My priorities are very skewed on this sort of thing. Kind of why I have exactly two photos in my house, one of my sister and the other of her dog in ski goggles. Nostalgia and I don't precicely get along.

Anyway, thanks for all the happy birthday wishes. You're all lovely people whose birthdays I intend not to forget since my Palm remembers everything for me. I have to run to eat as much sushi as I can stuff in my face for dinner. Then I get yellow cake with chocolate icing. It's a gonna be a good night. Even if I do find people trying to hide behind my midget pine trees with the intention of giving me a tackle and wet willie attack.