Happy Birthday Nicole, and me (about a month late) . . .

Not Nicole.
Not Nicole.
Not Nicole.
Not Nicole, either.
Nicole.

Not Nicole.

Thanks Kev for bending an ear to my birthday histrionics. I didn't lose my job in fact.

Kev tells me I was crying (literally) over the certainty that my career was doomed the next day and was pretty much perseverating on, "My fucking co-workers!".

I was surprised. I hardly ever say 'fuck'. Only when I hit my head, generally.

I actualy woke feeling fine - probably on account of going to bed before 9:30 pm.

I went there intent of having two beers. The ride home was foggy, at best.