Thanks to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday today (especially Elyse, who deserves special mention for sending me international well-wishes.) I'm sitting like a Buddha as I write, stomach distended from too much food (I ate like it was my last meal today. Maccas breakfast, meat and potato lunch, lasagne dinner...I felt my body decaying too much to refuse the salad put in front of me) ... bring on the party this Saturday.
I am also absolutely sick to death of the promotion for Australia at the moment. I know what I'm technically doing is giving them more free marketing, but if there was ever an extensional definition for overkill, this campaign would be it.
3 comments:
I made you a birthday cake, but then my cellmate told me that it wouldn't last in the mail (fuckin' Australia Post bastards; apparently they read your post cards when they sort them!).
I feel really bad now. I had all these grand plans for your birthday, too. Forgives? =(
Also: the reason you feel like you're dying is because you ate McDonald's for breakfast. You deserve every bit of pain, you good for nothing waste of space.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I'm just angry at myself for not trying harder for your birthday. Well, there's always that Jewish holiday coming up.
(Also that girl who blew you off: can I have her email? I feel she must be taught a lesson for hurting you)
Your...cellmate?
I'll forgive you. I already count you among my friends, Stephen.
Yeah, we use the term to help alleviate the woes of the institutional life. It's our little form of protest and comradeship in these dark days.
I got drunk last night and fell asleep. I'm not sure what's worse: my alcoholic consumption, or the fact that the alcohol put me to sleep. People kept trying to wake me. It was a lost cause.
Please don't judge me. =(
(Which, ironically, isn't a fair request for me to make; as I judge you and your McCorporate Breakfast)
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