It is now June. My birthday is in ten days. I will be 26 on the 11th. That is closer to 30 than to 20. I am officially saddened. The plan at this point was to be eating steaks on yachts while surrounded by sexy pale Jeanine Garofolos. Instead, I just had a few handfuls of dry granola and brushed the spider webs out of the corners of my ceiling with a broom.

All is well, otherwise, and there really isn't any real angst to report. Yesterday was one of those days I will wish I had back when I am old and dying. It was a day of absolute nothingness. I didn't even leave my apartment except to get the newspaper, and that was in the morning. I was awake until 2am. It felt a lot like what it must feel like for those people who voluntarily do those solitary experiments in caves. Or maybe it was more like being on the space station, only there were no experiments to do and less Russians floating around.

Happily, this upcoming birthday means a barbecue. Festivities will commence on Saturday the 9th. It will likely be the last barbecue ever at my mom's house. Feel free to join us. I'll be cooking, and my dog will be smelling you.

Speaking of my dog, why don't I relate a few fun facts regarding him just so this entry isn't a total downer?

Name: Barney
Breed: Mutt. When people ask, I usually just say "He's brown."
Eats: Pantyhose. This often results in one end of the pantyhose hanging out of his ass. My dad would then slowly pull them out. Thankfully, Barney hasn't eaten pantyhose since my dad died, otherwise, my mom would have likely called me to come over and perform the extraction process.
Hates: Having BenGay rubbed on his genitalia. My dad discovered this on a lazy Saturday afternoon. I've never seen a dog run so quickly and so pointlessly out of sheer confusion.
Sexual Preference: Homosexual. Often humps other male neighborhood dogs. That is, if he's not licking their genitalia. The ladies? Barney ignores them.