Hello, sluts. And Jen. What? Oh...Okay.

Hello, sluts, including Jen. Satisfied? Awesome.

Okaaay, agenda for today. Discussion. 2 days after my birthday. A year and a day since my debacle with the vodka (I think). And I didn't get drunk this year. So, the question is: how are random people coping in a dangerous post-Samantha's-26th-birthday world? Jen, be the man on the street.

Jen: Well I'm just trying to keep my head down, avoid flying objects, stay out of the way of flash flood waters caused by copious tears, and um, praying that a period isn't coming soon. 'Cause that might just tip it right on over into armageddon.

Really?

Jen: Yeah, it's a really close call right now concerning whether hormones or slow brewing, impotent rage will win out. Thank god there's ice cream and cake.

I think you're over-exaggerating just a bit. It hasn't been that bad.

Jen: Uh-huh. Do you remember Saturday when you broke down in Chili's and listed all the things you're afraid you will never accomplish: marriage, children, awesome job--

Shut up! I don't even want two of those things 364 days of the year.

Jen: Right, snickerdoodle.

What did you call me?

Jen: Something delicious.

Did someone miss their 3 o'clock feeding at the zoo. 'Cause you're not making sense.

Jen: Omg! See if I ever try and cheer you up again with an adorable pet name that includes both a candy bar and a funny word.

Whatever. Slut.

Jen: Ha! Duh! See above, ho-bag!

I just let an inanimate blog call me a ho-bag. My self-esteem must be at all time low.

Jen: What did you call me?

What? Inanimate or blog. If you can spell either I'll tell you what they mean.

Jen: :sniff:

Awww, don't cry. I'm sorry.

Jen: Ha! Sucker! Munch my butt!

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.