09.18.06 :: 10:15 am

Ryan turned 34 yesterday and I bought him a plaid button down and a gigunda coffee table book on ancient maps to celebrate.
Then I made him cook me dinner because thatís how I roll, motherfuckers.

Iím celebrating my birthday this Friday by enduring yet another reception meeting and I swear to God I canít wait until the day I no longer have to speak to that woman, I am so sick to death of her.
For no reason in particular, other than I know her deal at this stage of the game, I know when Iím getting the bait-n-switch or when sheís trying to squeeze more money out of my mother.
I donít appreciate it, and Iím done.
And if she thinks Iím paying $750 for her ďday ofĒ coordinator services, sheís fucking delusional.

Nothing spells birthday celebration better than back to back doctorís appointments. One every day this week.
Iím such a masochist, Iím surprised Iím not crazy into degrading, submissive sex or whatever.

Youíre soaking in it.

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