birthday?

It's my birthday tomorrow. And it's going to be one of the suckiest, ranking slightly behind the birthday when Jien asked to part ways as friends. I'm not at good terms with Boyfriend, him complaining for the 13846th time about my clothing, and me defiantly defending comfort should come before ego, that comfort accelerates my productivity at work, and revel in my sloppiness.

My birthday is destined to suck harder because I have to come out with 12 different copies for a product that boasts a hell load of crap more benefits than it actually has. I swear I'm going to be a helluva fairytale writer in no time.

I'm still coughing up a storm. I miss my angelic, melodious voice. The doctor says it's not Ebola (twice), but judging by the amount of goo coming out of my holes I want a second opinion. If I don't blog for a week after this, just go ahead and assume that the Ebola got me.

Update after 4 hours...

Gosh I can't believe the boredom that's spiritually attacking me right now. My mind is supposed to be either crammed full of ideas or little sparks of them for my 12 copies. That or planning how to celebrate my turning 26 with a bang. But my mind is... blank. Numb. Unfeeling. Is this how getting older feels? But I love birthdays! I love receiving gifts and unwrapping them and keeping the wrappers for my Christmas present-wrapping. Seems like getting older means decreased enjoyment in receiving and unwrapping presents. I didn't even get an e-mail or text message or card. I'm unpopular. Fuck. But I received 2 presents so far from college mates. A Mango Body Butter for Very Dry Skin from The Body Shop. Makes me feel like a fucking reptile. Ogres are mammals. Frisky mammals, albeit the size and stature. Another present is a silver, aluminium-like picture frame. Awwwww, how quaint. *smack it off the table*

But I love presents. The right ones.