I guess I'll write something, huh? Yesterday was a pretty good birthday, I have to say. I woke up feeling depressed and shitty. It's weird how you can just make an assumption about how a day will be for no fucking reason, just based on feeling sorry for yourself and shit, and then it ends up completely different. It's stupid. Everyone called me or emailed me, well most everyone, and that was nice. And Jenn really took care of me. We spent most of the day together. She bought me some nice presents, which is pretty cool. I got money from my whole family, which is what I desperately needed, you know to pay the rent and what not, but Jenn gave me some stuff I can enjoy, which is nice. And the gifts were really thoughtful, too. A book on making a career as a visual artist, this book called "Gig" that I've been wanting for the last couple of years or more. Clerks and Mallrats on DVD. A couple of bottles of coke, and a couple of packages of socks. That one was funny because I had told her this story about when I was a kid. I wanted some toy for my birthday, some Star Wars thing or something (that's okay because I was a kid, not a grownup) but my mom kept telling me she and my dad were going to give me socks. And I thought she was pulling my chain until on my birthday I opened my present, and lo and behold, socks. Just socks. And as I piled through my new socks, I realized that they were actually my socks. Like they had gone through my drawer, stolen my socks, wrapped them up and gave them to me. Funny stuff. And of course I still got my toy too, because my parents are fucking cool and not made from evil pure enough to allow them to just give me my own shit for my birthday. Anyway, so Jenn got me some socks, and I thought that was really funny. And I'm old enough to appreciate the value of some good socks these days.

We went to dinner at an Indian place down the street and that was pretty damn good. I hadn't had Indian food in quite a while, so I was excited. And then of course we had to watch American Idols, because we're silly like that. Then Jennore and her friends who had been over at the ball game stopped by and grabbed us and we headed to the bar, and this bunch of people who I didn't even really know, especially one guy I'd never met, and one guy who I've only met a couple of times but who seems to be a really cool person, plus Jennore, proceeded to buy me drinks and get me and Jenn trashed. How cool is that? I mean they seriously acted like I was just an old friend, a part of the crew, and it really made me feel good. Not the booze, the acceptance. You know, it feels weird hanging out with those guys. Everyone in that group is full on college educated, they have careers in engineering and education and public relations and what have you, and I'm older than all of them. It makes me feel like a dumbass, even though I can keep up with most of them intellectually I'm sure, just because I wonder if they see me as low class or something. But this night at the bar made me feel like the didn't, so I guess that was good. I've got a lot of stuff to say about Jennore and her crew, but I think I need more of a full entry for that, so some other time.

Today we were hung over. A lot. Especially my poor girlfriend. I had to go to Domino's and talk to the owner. I've got the job, but I have to get a copy of my Utah driving record, which sucks ass because it's a whole process. I have to mail this form that I have to sign and have notarized that it's my signature, and then they'll send the record back to me. So that will probably set me back more than a week, and that it shitty. I just want to buy some decent food. I miss cooking good shit so bad lately that I've been reading cookbooks! I just want to buy some chicken and some pasta and mushrooms and cream and vegetables and stuff and make something tasty. I'm so tired of packaged food that I have laying around the house. And I need protein! I crave meat constantly lately. I'm used to eating it a lot, and now it seems like I don't eat it that much. Ridiculous. I want good food. I can't wait to buy some ingredients. You know you're officially poor when you hit that point where the one thing you're all excited about buying, the thing you dream about in your normal capitalist materialist way, the way you normally dream about new computers and shiny cars, is chicken. I hope getting this driving record doesn't take too fucking long, but if I know the state of Utah like I think I know the state of Utah, it will. The shitty thing? I was just in Utah a fucking week ago! If I had known this then, I could have just gone to the goddamn DMV and picked one up! Damnit!