Friday was my birthday.
I had a pretty good time (although I could be lying right now as not to sound ungrateful for all the loving people in my life who happen to not be "best best kickin it buddies" but still tried to spend time with me because they know that I am sensitive and they didnt want to leave me somewhere sad and lonely which I hate. . .dwell on it!). The work day was nice. I had sushi for lunch. For some strange reason I thought that if it was deep-fried that the salmon would be cooked like it is at this other place. Nope! It was raw. And I ordered it. So I ate it. It was good, too. But I have no plans for going back. This year I've been called out twice; once for not expanding my mind to calamari and once for frowning at sushi. Both times by men who need to expand their minds to dark-skinned ars. Back to me --Mission accomplished. Naysayers, fcuk off!
Meanwhile, back at the office, I laid low in the office while the homies gathered in the employee lounge. Happy Birthday they yelled. Then we ate cake.
I had a good work day.
I dropped my son with my big cousin and littler cousins on a whim. They had a blast. I went to the grown folks spot. Eh. Then I left and went to the young and glamorous folks spot. Shoulda stayed with the grown folks. Heck, I shoulda stayed with the cousins and my baby boy. Then went to my parents and just absorbed the love. Instead, I tried to get fly and kick it. Not really at the place. Doesn't quite work. So I sat at the bar drinking cranberry juice. Mixed with ginger ale. Fighting tears. At the bar. On my birthday.
Brutal honesty burns me. But it's supposed to be cathartic.
"Whoop when ya feel it, holla if ya hear it." -jilly-from-philly
