Blue Blogged

I was more prepared than I thought I'd be.

I came home from work early, had a pedicure, a spinal adjustment and some sashimi, in that order. I found out I won an ebay item I had wanted that is universally disliked by anyone I had shown it to. And on the same vein, later on I was in the arms of a man I cannot have (who is mysteriously though affectionately and repeatedly pulling on my left ear).

I sat in my living room, fondling the antique bottles he gave me, listening to him talk about his newly purchased electric blue car. And I found myself trying to find some witty segue to the fact that I had been raising two electric blue dempseys in my planted 55 gallon tank. Mildly pathetic I'd usually say, struggling as if finding the transition would "bridge our gap". Yes I would normally be on table top, Norma Rayishly brandishing a sign that says "Death To Bisexuals". But this time, I don't harp on it.

On the eve of my 35th birthday, I am suprisingly comfortable in my own skin. So much that I can relish a crash from a hazelnut-cappuccino haze and finally give myself a break.