Feeling: IfyoumakeanyPMSjokesIwilleatyourchildren.
Listening to: Celine Dion - The Power of Love
Reading/Watching: Tina, my boss, who takes pity on me.

I am having such a not fun time.

If I'm rude to anyone for the next couple of days, I apologize. I feel like I've done a thousand sit-ups and been punched in the stomach between each one. (Need you ask? I hate being female.)

Over the weekend I went home and was made much of for managing to live another year, and now I'm back (as you can see). When we had dinner at my old restaurant to celebrate my birthday, I was hoping for the usual chocolate-cake-cute-waiter-singing-to-me deal they always do.

But apparently they're low on singers these days (something I could've taken advantage of, if I'd been unlucky enough to go back there), so not only did no one sing to me, but one of the waiters who remembered me came over and asked me to sing for someone else.

I thought it was funny. Standing there in my street clothes, singing Happy Birthday in Italian to this eight-year-old girl. The entire room went dead quiet- I'm guessing they're even more hard-up for singers than they say. 'Twas fun, reliving the highlight of my old job.

But I'm still more than grateful that I'm here at this desk, instead of wearing the tie, bustling from table to table. Let's hope it stays that way.

Now, time to go back to data entry. It's more interesting if you murmur the words aloud in varying accents as you type them... at least until the guy in the next cubicle starts laughing at you.

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