Today is my birthday.
I'm pretty sure my mom forgot, although I'm still holding out a little bit of hope.
My birthday has never been the grestest day of my life. One year, I was sick. One year, Peter told me he wanted nothing to do with me because I was too fucked up (he's one to talk?). Shit has always sucked on my birthday.
At least today I didn't wake up bleeding from some unexpected wound. That's an improvement over some years.
Got drunk last night. It wasn't intentional, and I'm not sure how the hell I managed to get so trashed on ONE glass of wine. Then I had an ice cream cone at Baskin-Robbins. Ugh, what a crappy feeling THAT left me with. I STILL feel crappy.
Listening to some gahd-awful weird South African music about mangoes.
I have a presentation to make for class today, and I need to do some moving.
Later, kids.
~Helena*