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Today is my birthday.

It was spent doing very adult things like digging the penis-shaped straws out of my purse (from Julianne's stagette the night before), cluelessly wandering around a Home Depot for flooring and ending up only buying batteries and a chocolate bar and a visit to the Mothership Ikea where we are now known BY NAME by an employee, Mike, in the kitchen department.

Yes. Very adult indeed.

The following awesome gifts have been received:
* Boogie for Wii
* Cooking Mama for Wii
* Real Simple magazine subscription
* A landline phone
* Gift certificate at Gone Shopping
* Lotto tickets
* A pig in Zambia named Jen But Never Jenn

Dinner is up next at Tom Jones (named after the Henry Fielding novel, not the panty-attracting singer)!

Yay.

Feeling Bad Makes Me Feel Good

I am stuffed up. I have itchy eyes, a runny nose, an achey bod and I'm sneezing quite a bit. My face and chest feel as though I've just finished a really big cry. I do believe that I am sick. And I'm sooo happy.


For whatever reason, I've always kinda liked getting a cold. You feel all wonderfully dopey. Your voice sounds hilarious. You get to wear pajamas all day. People feel sorry for you. You can eat as much chicken noodle soup as you like. You get smothered in yummy Vick's Vapour Rub. You get to live on the couch with pillows and a blanket and magazines and Oprah.


LOVE IT. Maybe this is why I am so unsympathetic when I hear other people are sick. I'm not the uncaring cow you think I am. I'm actually just jealous.

Starbucks Melts My Brain

I'm not really a huge Starbucks person, and that really shined through when I went to order a drink from them today.

Combine the distraction of the nattering Bluetoothed folk around me and my desire to try something fancy and new (to me), the "Tazo Chai Tea Latte" I intended to ask for came out as a "Tazzered Late Chattie-o."

That's verbatim. Sigh - I am such a tourist.