Icky. Boo.

Ever have one of those days where your sinuses feel like they've been hit in the balls with a steel-toed boot by a girl who just found out her boyfriend likes to dress up in ladies underwear?

Yeah. Today's my day.

(Not the boyfriend thing, but the sinuses. You know, to make that clear.)

I feel like poop. Not even a latte makes me feel better. And I'm pretty sure mashed potatoes won't do a dang thing for me either. The only thing that worked was the neck rub from Brad at about 3 o'clock this morning. But then he decided he needed something called "sleep" and so therefore, I kissed my massage goodbye. Blah. He doesn't even realize how close he came to getting a birthday present.

(Which is in 1 week and 5 days, and he will be an age that is not quite 29 but not quite 31 either. Be sure to tease him mercilessly. He will likee.)

Okay, I'm leaving now. I am in dire need of a nap and some NyQuil. And if ya'll don't feel sorry enough for me already, then something is wrong with your brain.

The end.