First you win two free meals (along with two free scoops of frozen custard) at a decent restaurant, through a raffle that you never once signed up for and/or purchased into.
Then you decide to share this meal with your brother, who has just informed you that the TKE house that he lived in during his stay at NDSU receives free cases of Monster (16 or so a week, in fact), and that he was given a handful of cans for free.
You eat the meal (the meal in question happens to be a Double Mushroom & Swiss Butterburger, fries, a glass of water, and a scoop of chocolate frozen custard), and then decide to try some of the infamous energy drink (all while finishing your brother's fries, I might add).
A couple hours later, it begins to not sit so well.
I'll never drink that shit again.
. . . Or maybe it was all those Skittles I ate off the ground at my sister's softball game. Who knows!
- - -
My birthday was a true joy. I ate a bunch of food, received a lot of clothing I didn't need, received some money I didn't need, and also received a movie I didn't need. I was lazy the whole day. (I figure I took maybe a total of 250 steps. Tops. Honest to God.)
I still hate birthdays. They're awful. I hate cards. I hate that kind of attention. If anyone wants to make me feel absolutely awful, here's how you do it: Buy me a bland card filled with platitude after platitude, act as happy as people will the day they cure all types of cancer, be like my sister and keep telling me "Look happy! It's your birthday! Stop being a grouch!" and also sing the birthday song over and over again. I hate that song. a;slkjdoejf
But it was fun. I had a good time. It reminded me how much I love my family (And I do. A lot. Even my mother.), and how much they love me.
- - -
"WHAAAAAAAT?"
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