Ah, September 17. Sweet, sweet day. The day I am all-important. The day society and culture come together to simultaneously acknowledge my worth. The day of my birth.

I notify all well in advance. I drag out the festivities, so as to milk the precious cow that showers me with creamy attention. There is no shame in my game. At least, I�ve never felt any. I get off on it.

This morning I awoke with a kiss and a caress (as always), and M.s.�s soft voice saying, �Happy Birthday.� As I arrived at work, my father called and sang to me, made me smile, made me laugh. Then I got a surprise call � Bunny is coming into town THIS weekend! She�ll be here for my Sunday brunch, oh happy day!

Tonight, I will spend a mellow evening with M.s. He�s going to make me dinner, which as most of you know, is always a treat. I�m sure he knows though, that I�d be just as happy with a Lean Cuisine, as long as he�s close by.

Tomorrow, Spider Monkey returns from Hawaii! Then, the weekend will by psychotic. Friday night, a birthday, Bluetech�s cd release party at an event thrown by other friends downtown, and Bunny arriving straight from the airport. Saturday, a haircut, some shopping and dinner with the Family. Sunday, party at the park and another in the evening. Shit, I�m busy. But damn, it feels good. And after the whirlwind of activity, doing nothing will feel just as good.

Unfortunately, the work on my desk does not have the same reverence for me as the people do. Therefore, I must now busy myself with all of these tasks. Lunch with Pixie will take me away temporarily, thank God. But now... the special birthday girl has got to get some shit done.

-Barbarella

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