Happy Birthday, Elvis. I know you're out there somewhere (and most likely, reading my blog)... so I hope it was a good one.
My birthday was pretty decent. I got some good stuff. Enough said.
Questions I have before the end of the evening....
1. Why do I dread going to work all the time? Maybe I need to find a new job. But this one pays REALLY well. In fact, almost well enough to erase all my dread. Almost.
2. Is there a support group for Shop-a-holics? (assuming I WANT to be helped)-- I might need one someday.
3. Where the HELL is MPB? Anyone? Anyone? (Bueller? Bueller?) People should just NOT disappear without saying anything. It's unhealthy for the rest of us. Same goes for Nikki and DBoy. Did he get that job? No news is... maddening.
4. If you eat Quiche Lorraine for brunch/lunch, but no one sees you, did the calories really happen?
5. If said calories did happen, how many leg lifts, jumping jacks, and minutes on the treadmill do I have to do to work them off? (I'm not even going to mention the tiny piece of birthday cake I ate)
A big Thank You to my mom... for not putting the exact number of candles on my cake. You ROCK, Mom! (like I'd ever give her the URL to BloggyLand... HA!)
And a final shoutout to my Farm Boy, Westley (aka MR. Don't Call Me MA'AM)... even though I have yet to lose the 15 lbs I gained after the trip to Steroidsville.... and after listening to me whine non-stop about the extra flab around my middle.... he still tells me I'm beautiful every single day. What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man. Oh, and he's hot. yeah, baby!
Focker OUT!
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