UFOs? Aliens? Where's the tinfoil?

I started writing a lot today but it was all bits and pieces, half finished thoughts that were typed out between wiping a poop covered bum or switching laundry or fantasizing about sweet, chocolate, sugary goodness.  Everyone in my house is asleep, except for me of course and the only noise is the TV and the dryer.  I am dangerously alone with my thoughts and some strange little ideas floating around me.  

I watched a documentary today about aliens, UFOs, extraterrestrial life and questioning whether or not they exist but also if they have visited our little planet.  Food for thought.  I honestly think it would be naive to believe that life would not exist on other planets.  Let's face it, our sun could very easily be a star in someone else's sky.  Wouldn't it be interesting to think that when we look through our telescopes at the night sky that someone, at a distance hard to comprehend, is also looking back at us.

It seems lately that there is a lot of information being released to the public from many governments, including our own, sharing all documents (military, civilian, local police, observatories, etc) relating to UFOs and their sightings.  This does not include the United States, sadly enough because wouldn't we all love to read the real information regarding Roswell and Area 51.  There are many high ranking government officials and professional people coming forward with information of things they have both seen, experienced and took part in.  

One would include Dr. Steven Greer, a recognized medical doctor from the state of Virginia and North Carolina and the former chairman of the Department of Emergency Medicine at Caldwell Memorial Hospital in Lenoir, North Carolina.  He is credited as the founder of the Center for the Study of Extraterrestrial Intelligence as well as The Disclosure Project.  He believes that it is imperative that governments release all their knowledge of UFOs and alien life as it is believed that these foreign species may hold the key and the technology to free humanity's reliance on natural gas and help us to curb our ongoing fight on pollution, global warming, etc.  In my humble opinion, this is a valid argument.

Another notable person speaking out about the existence of alien life and their presence on our planet is Dr. Edgar Mitchell, an astronaut on the Apollo 14 mission and the sixth man to walk on the moon.  He claims to have first-hand knowledge of aliens and also claims that many governments, including the United States, have had contact with alien species over the last sixty years.  It all sounds crazy but when reading about this man's history including his work with both the US Navy and NASA as well as being educated through numerous science degrees including a Doctor of Science Degree in Aeronautics and Astronautics from Michigan Institute of Technology (MIT) and numerous honourary doctorates from multiple universities, it could make even the most skeptical raise an eyebrow and pay attention.

Recently, on September 27, 2010, a news conference was held where Robert Salas, Charles Halt, Robert Hastings, Bruce Fenstermacher, Dwynne Arnesson, Patrick McDonough, Gerome Nelson and Robert Jamison (all retired) give testimony about their UFO encounters while they were on official duty in the US military at nuclear weapons sites.  These men all held high ranks and security clearances.  They are trusted and educated which makes this conference a little creepy and an interesting watch.  

Another interesting new conference had the former Canadian Defence Minister Paul Hellyer speaking about full disclosure of governments regarding UFOs and alien life which he claims to have a vast, first-hand experience and knowledge of.  He is another believer that aliens could supply the knowledge and technology to stop and possibly reverse the effects of our pollution problem by helping us develop clean energy sources to replace our use of fossil fuels.

Does the fact that Mazlan Othman, a Malaysian astrophysicist has been named the  head of the United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs make you go "hmmm"?  Yeah, me too.  She is the first Malaysian astrophysicist and credited with creating the curriculum in astrophysics at the Malaysian national university.  This world renowned mathematician and astrophysicist, oversaw the development of  Planetarium Negara, Malaysia's national planetarium in Kuala Lumpur at the directive of the nation's president.  The United Nations claims that this position is regarding space debris, laws between countries regarding independent space exploration and possible catastrophic events such as asteroids approaching Earth.  It also makes her the first person to speak to an alien race if one should make it's presence known.  Hmmmm ... 

There have been retired NORAD officers, British, Mexican, Argentinian, Australian, etc military intelligence officers, numerous highly educated scientists and multiple government officials speaking out in recent months.  Could a disclosure of the existence of alien life be coming?  Maybe.  Nothing is impossible I guess.

There are things that could be sketchy or skeptical.  Recently on a CNN broadcast, two young men proved how easy it is to fake a UFO sighting.  Add to that how easy it is to manipulate still and video shots and sightings can be called into question very easily.  Genius and insanity also border very closely so could all of these people be bordering on insanity and reading too much into vague documents from the 1940s and on?  I guess that's possible too.

I suppose one has to decide for themselves what their level of belief is going to be.  As for me, I think they're out there but to what extent I actually believe that they're also here, I'm not sure of.  I want to believe as much as some people already do believe.  Some to the point of wearing their tinfoil helmet and filming every shooting star in the sky while fantasizing about being abducted to the mother ship.  Sadly, the belief in UFOs and life off of our planet is ridiculed and sometimes grounds for being committed.  

Is it possible that if we were more open to the idea of alien life being an absolute truth that the absolute truth regarding alien life would be confirmed?  Maybe.

The Art of Transit Naps

I stood at the bus stop this morning for about ten minutes watching the rain drops fall off the leaves on the trees beside me. While I waited the eternity of ten minutes I also dug the toe of my shoe in the gravel, adjusted my leggings, tried to whistle (until I realized I looked like a crazy person) and snapped my fingers. Snapping my fingers and whistling. Now that I think of it, I probably looked like a five year old standing beside the broken vase doing the "I-Didn't-Do-It" dance.

I finally broke out of my stupor when I heard the familiar "psssh" of the bus' air brakes and noticed how gray the sky was. Gross. Doors opened, climbed on and put my bright orange bus ticket in the thingy (what is that thing called anyway?) and sat down. A big empty seat by the back door was calling my name. It was perfect. Can't watch the sheeple from the front of the bus. I thought about reading and even went as far as taking my book out of my bag.

"Liar's Poker". Wall Street in the early 1980s, bond trading, stock exchange, mortgage garble I can barely understand. I know paperclips and document control numbers, mastered the intricacies of the photocopier and document compiling in Adobe, I'm not a money person. Just look at my cheque book and bank statements, it's obvious that money beguiles me and bamboozles me with it's quick waltz out of my pocket. The book seems drab and bland, the kind of book I'd usually snub my nose at but it's surprisingly good and exceptionally well written. It's the only book I've read that can reference a "Big Swinging Dick" and not sound like pornography. So far I've devoured close to seven chapters in two days and considering I've only been reading to and from work on the bus, that's pretty good. It almost makes me want to learn more about this money beast and the men and women who so cleverly throw it around. But, this morning I managed only one paragraph.

My book ended up on my lap, my sheeple observations ceased and my eyes closed. I started the timeless art of bus napping. By the time the 21 reached Dutch Village I was out cold. My head was bobbing with the bounce of the bus on the uncertain up-and-down of Halifax roads. You're never really asleep on the bus but it sure as hell feels like it. You get a little nudge whenever you reach the next stop or the PeeMan sits close enough to you that you get the occasional waft of his cologne of choice - urine. I have that silly one eye open glance to make sure I'm where I'm supposed to be and back to sleep. Today I woke up on Gottigen Street, yawned and put my book back in my bag after deciding to continue my nap on the ferry. I took a quick peek out of the window to make sure the sky was still gray. I know where I am, time to sleep but not without a peek at a balcony to bring a little grin to my sleeping face.

"Just put the razor up your nostril and turn this way, then that way. That's how I take care of the nose hairs." I'm on a tangent and that's a story for another time.

I woke up again in time to jump off the bus and stare for a minute at Freak Lunchbox wishing to hell it was open so I could get some goodies. Finally strutted my chubby ass to the ferry terminal ... missed it. I guess I should've avoided staring at the candy store. On days like this when I miss the ferry I usually walk the boardwalk, today I sat in the ferry terminal half-assed reading a newspaper until I heard the familiar robotic voice telling me that the Woodside Ferry is now boarding.

No one interesting today. No strange conversations, no marriage proposals, no weird shoes or horrible haircuts. There were no interesting tattoos, shockingly beautiful people or anyone that made you question their gender. Like the guy who cleans the ferry that I eventually realized was a girl when I found him cleaning the woman's washroom. Still makes me raise an eyebrow. I thought for a minute that maybe she was transgender and if that was the case, good for her/him but no, just a very manly woman with a moustache and mutton chops who speaks very highly of her husband and children.

The ferry was uneventful and lacked the completion of my nap. Just couldn't stop staring at the damn Chemul wondering what that shipyard was going to look like with that big orange beast gone. Moorings are coming off soon. Sea trials and commissioning are beginning within the next week or two and then it's done, gone, over, adios. End of a brief chapter.

All in all, I made it to work today which, on any given day, is a great feat of persistance and timing. I'm just glad I've finally mastered sleeping on the bus.

How honest is too honest??

Here I am again, pounding out a little blurb of nonsense. Lady Gaga played John Lennon's famous white piano. Lucky b*tch. Not that I can play the piano but playing Chop Sticks on John Lennon's piano, the one that he wrote Imagine on, would be quite the experience. Oh, I could also play Mary Had A Little Lamb!! Far cry from an unarguable timeless classic, but Mary Had A Little Lamb sort of is in it's own right. Isn't it?

It's late and I should be in bed but I have a bizillion (I know, ridiculous number) questions floating around in my head. I'm a little pissed off. Well, maybe a lot pissed off but that's beside the point. I'm trying to figure out whose place it is to determine how honest I need to be with my kids. Whose job is it to figure out how much they should or shouldn't know? Oh wait, that's right, that's me. Seems there are people who are not to happy that I'm completely honest with Miss Lily regarding the circumstances of my upbringing. Those who know me, know the story so there is no reason to repeat it here. The thing is, Miss Lily is questioning her upbringing and who everyone is in her life, where they stand, how we're all related and why things came to be that way. Do I hold this information back from her the way it was held back from me? The way it's still held back from me, certain pieces of it anyway. If my baby girl is hurting and questioning things her life that I can relate to, is it not my job as her mother to symphathize with her and tell her that I understand? I've had some of the same questions growing up that she has. I can answer her questions the way that no one answered mine. I still have a lot of things I want to ask and I'm still nervous to ask because it makes me feel like that little kid who was told things just are they way they are and don't bother.

I don't want any of my kids to feel that any part of who I am, who they are and what makes us a different and extra special kind of family is anything to be ashamed of. I don't ever want them to be afraid to ask me a question or wonder if the answer is truthful. I have three beautiful babies whom I love dearly, without question. As their questions are asked, they will be answered as honestly as I can. Of course I'm going to edit according to age but never will I hold back. Who I am, who their family is, who their parents are is all a part of their history and they deserve to grow up knowing it. I think their situation, being so different from other families, may give them a different perspective on life, family and what constitutes a family. Families now are so varied, so mixed and so diverse that me, being a single mother of three, isn't an unusual occurance anymore. I don't want them to think that there is something wrong with the way that I grew up or the way that they are growing up. How else can I do that if it's not an open topic?

Could I be wrong? Absolutely. I promised myself I would always be honest with my children about everything. Is that wrong? Should I avoid questions? Should I not volunteer information even though I think it might make my little girl feel better and that she's not the only one in the world that has wondered and worried and asked? She has a sister and brother coming up behind her that I'm sure are going to be asking the same questions she already has and how can expect to have an open and honest relationship with them if I haven't had one with their big sister? How can I have an open and honest relationship with any of my children if I avoid or redirect any questions that they have? I think if I don't answer them honestly when they're younger, they're never going to ask me anything when they're older. As they grow up and the questions they ask deviate from family to sex, drugs, friends, relationships, etc I want them to know that Mommy is always going to answer as calmly, truthfully and best that she can.

Is it possible to build this kind of relationship with my children one piece at a time? I don't want to be their best friend, that's not my job. I want to be their mother, someone to be respected and, in some cases, feared (especially when you're giving your sister a nipple twister). At the same time, they need to know they can come to me with anything. I think that trust is built step by step, even in parent-child relationships and starts from day one.

Dear followers, in atypical fashion for me, I went on a serious slide to somewhere that I ponder quite often. So you guys tell me ... would you answer your children's questions as honestly as you can or would you avoid or redirect them? Do you guys think there is any other way to handle the hard questions other than be as honest as you can based on how old your child is and what you know they can handle? If you do, please share.

Love and hugs xoxox

PMS is a funny little period.

Oh am I ever on a rollarcoaster today. Thought it best to pull back on the brake and let things slide a little slower. This way I'm still riding the ups and downs but allowing myself to have more control ... maybe. There's something to be said for being an absolute trainwreck of emotion, hyper-sensitive and overly analytical while being unable to be passive until these days of bipolar madness subside. Welcome to the hormonally charged time known as premenstrual syndrome. The big P M S. Ugh, gross and way too much information. Sorry.

I have a tendancy to take the unwilling on this unpopular ride with me when I know better but my mouth doesn't get the message to shut-up, it just keeps running it's foolishness while my brain and my common sense are waving their arms and screaming "NOOOO". Sort like what your sober friends do when you have your handy beer goggles on and try to leave the bar with the stangest science speciman there. In reality, someone should just grab a hold of you and simply scream "MISTAKE". Oh, I need that person today except they need to tell me to "SHUT UP"!

At the very least, it's a beautiful quiet day at home. Miss Lily is snuggled up on the couch reading a book, Princess Chloe is drawing pictures and hanging them on the fridge for me, Everett is racing his cars on the coffee table and periodically hugging me. I'd like to take them for a walk but I'm afraid I'd bite somebody. They're safe, the rest of the world isn't. The brain-to-mouth filter is busted and the thoughts don't make much sense. It all hurts. You could tell me you loved me and I'm the greatest thing ever but I'd break down and call you a filthy liar. I even yelled at the TV today but seriously, no woman is that happy on her period and those damn commercials have to stop misrepresenting that fact.

Wow, I made my point about being completely irrational.

This is getting comical to me now. The foolishness of it all. I'm laughing now, give it five minutes and I'll either be cranky and accusing people of hurting me when there was no intention of it or crying over the fact that I have no idea what the hell to make for supper.

Well, it's not really that bad but it's crappy. Two days and then release, back to normal. I feel really friggin bad for all those horrible men I have to work with tomorrow. May as well paint targets on the all and start slinging the mud.

Hey K, got an extra chair I can toss for some brief deliverance of this silliness?? I know you get it!!

Ode to Public Transit

I'm sheeple. I came to that realization today. I'm just like everyone else in the daily grind, I'm a sheeple. Every day when I get to the ferry terminal I watch a herd of people running off of the ferry, bolt up the ramp and sprint as fast as they can to the waiting buses. I sit in a spot where I can watch the event, which I equate to a lower scale Running of the Bulls. Running of the Suits is what my twisted little brain has been calling it.

Today was different. I watched the Running of the Suits in my usual spot and smiled at the rush. Hey, it's amusing, you'd giggle too. I boarded the ferry as usual and sat in my usual spot. On the right, at the back, closest to the window so I can watch the Chemul get smaller as I get farther away and closer to home. I like watching it get smaller lately, the Chemul has definitely lost it's charm for me in the last couple of weeks. That's a whole other story though that we're just not touching it.

Anyway, as usual, I digress ... when my choppy, windy ride was done I started running for the bus. I became a player in the Running of the Suits. Only I'm running in pigtails, a toque and pink work boots. I'm a sheeple. A twisted one, but a sheeple nonetheless. All I could do was laugh at myself while I showed the driver my transfer slip and sit my chubby white ass at the back of the bus.

I watched a very young girl with a cane; listened to a conversation about the differences in Quebec versus France conversational French; saw a young couple display the fact that they are very much in love (blech); listen to art students discuss a new sculpture project and how they prefer photography and it's many avenues of creativity; and, was asked where I bought my eyelashes because they were great. Kind of fun to tell that poor overly made-up girl that they were mine with a little mascara, no fakies here. I sort of felt sad for her though, if you slapped the back of her head her face would fall off. Too much make-up is not a good thing.

So, today I discovered I'm just like everyone else. Only I'm the everyone else who sits and the back and watches the group, takes in the sights and sounds and behaviours of the other sheeple around me. Loves the older couple at the bus stop who hold hands while waiting for their bus that she passes every morning. Loves the driver who tell every single passenger to have a lovely day in her British accent when they get off the bus. Loves the gentleman who works at the ferry terminal who holds the door for me every afternoon. Loves the guy with the huge fro that stands about a foot off of his head and out passed his shoulders who listens to his iPod much too loudly while he waits for his ferry to Alderney Gate. Loves the chilly, salty air in the afternoon. Loves the city lights across the harbour. Loves the homeless man that smells like pee who asked me to marry him.

Loves the city.

I don't mind being the same as everyone else, they're all different just like me. All our own quirks and habits, experiences and lives. I don't want Alyson Metro Transit anymore, that would be one hell of a lonely ride.

Just a rant ...

I'm supposed to be working. Not doing a very good job of it though. I guess that's the problem with being trusted to get work done from home is that it's very easy to slack off. Truth is, I just don't have it in me to pay enough attention. I spent all weekend thinking about the stuff I had to get caught up on at work; spent Sunday trying to figure out what time I was going to get to work after my appointment with the school and the errands I had to run before I got on that ferry; and then, spent this morning thinking about either getting to work earlier than expected or running around downtown for a little while enjoying a crisp March morning in the city.

I opted for getting there earlier which was good because I spent the rest of the day getting caught up on emails, server back-ups, burning photo DVDs, taking meeting minutes, chasing inspection updates, scratching my head when trying to get my filing in order and making lists of stuff I have to move to the server in the morning before I update again. I still have to clean out my drawer and put my coveralls in the dirty basket to be taken to the cleaners along with the rest of some pics I have to file.

OH EHM GEE!! I am obsessed! Work. Good ole work. Here I am, at 21:19 hours on my work laptop trying to type up meeting minutes before I start updating a spreadsheet that will only have to be updated tomorrow when I get back to my little shipyard trailer. I think I'll give up and type up some of the notes before I forget how to read my swiftly scribbled, far from neatly written hen-scratch of personal shorthand. Other than that, I'm done. I don't get paid to work from home anymore so honestly, I'm going to lay on the couch and watch some guilty pleasure TV while I ponder other things. Things that don't involve the refitting of an oil rig. Excuse me, accommodation and supply rig.

The house is eerily quiet except for a few small noises. I can hear Chloe talking in her sleep. The hummm of my washer. The TV is mumbling away. The keys are clicking while I type. An odd tiny meow from the kittens. And every now and then, a whistle from my budgies. All that noise and I'm still finding it quiet. Weird.

I have to go grab the phone ... this quiet is driving me crazy ... I think I'm getting used to hustle and bustle of busy mornings getting the babies ready and out the door which is quickly followed by listening to strange conversations on the bus. Once the bus is done, it's the ferry terminal and smiling at the Tim Horton's lady while she makes my tea. They're getting to know me and my order but I'm thinking that's because I tip well. Then the ferry ride which is usually quiet but it's off the ferry and down the hill to the shipyard where I spend my days doing what I already listed in the beginning of this post. Once I'm in my trailer I'm surrounded by people and rush and conversation. The day ends and I either jump in the car with Superman where I stare at him singing along to music and wonder what happened to us and why I still feel so close to him even though we're no longer together and just clinging onto a friendship. If it's not Superman, it's the ferry that is followed by a half an hour wait for a bus to go get Little Miss and my Little Man. Conversation about their day and we're off to get Miss Lily. Home. Homework. Showers. Pajamas. Snuggles and bed lunch. Goodnight kisses and hugs. Retrieving cars from the floor and finding a good story for Miss Lily to read because she has to read the stories now. She's a damn good reader and much too smart for her age at times. Downstairs I go when they get in bed and snuggle in to watch TV or work or eat my face off. Maybe a phone chat. Check Facebook. Read stupid, vapid, shallow celebrity gossip. Then this happens ... the quiet. Most times very welcomed and other times, like tonight ... just nice, just right, just weird.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the laundry ...

Spreadsheets & Shit?

Oh my. Here goes another one. Nothing really happened the last couple of days. That doesn't sound quite right but seriously, it didn't. Little interesting tidbits of crud peppered between having my head down in spreadsheets or shit. Literal stinky baby diaper shit. Spreadsheets and shit. Why am I now singing that to the tune of Liquor and Whores?

Yesterday started with me learning that Karma has a sense of humour. I had the early morning rush on Miss Lily to get her tiny behind out the door to get to the sitter's so she could then get to school and, subsequently, me to the damn bus. They should really run every three minutes so I can slow down a little in the morning. No matter how early I get up or how much I get done the night before, I still end up running around like a fool in the morning. I should also have my own ferry. One that takes me right to work, drops me off on one of those pontoon things on the rig. Oh that'd be nice: Alyson Metro Transit.

Anyway, I digress from my point. In shooing Miss Lily out the door, I ended up having the brush check (hair & teeth). Teeth were good but hair wasn't so I gave her a speech about how it's important to always be washed with your teeth and hair brushed before she leaves the house. I helped her brush her hair and out the door we went. I may have been a little hard on her, we were both rushed, cranky and tired.

She got to the sitter's place; I got to the bus stop -- late. Sooooo, while sitting at the bus stop, Superman swung by and picked me up which was great since it meant Tim Horton's and a warm car with loud music to wake me the f**k up. What did I discover in the Tim Horton's drive through? I forgot to brush my damn hair when I got out of the shower. Ugh. Karma has a sense of humour. I made sure to give my girl a big hug when I got to see her.

It's getting late and I think I'm finally getting tired. Aside from that, I've had a long night last night with two very sick little people. Little Miss and Little Man both ended up at IWK emerge with horrible coughs and what sounded like fluid in their lungs. Ended up that both were perfectly fine aside from Little Miss having a double whammy ear infection but a 4am arrival at home wiped us all out. I did get to work from home today so I could stay home with them which was great. I love my job. I seriously love my job. Weird eh? I almost think I'd do it for free. Wait, I don't love it that much. I don't even love it enough to still do it with a pay cut. Maybe I don't love it as much as I thought I did.

Well, my babies are getting healthy again. They're all asleep and happy. Little Man woke up a little while ago but he's easy to get back to sleep when he's not feeling well, a toy car and some Tylenol. Easy as pie. Snuggles don't hurt either although I'm pretty sure they're more for me than him.

On that note, my battery on the laptop is dying and I'm too lazy to plug it in right now. Just to end this thing: I bought a brush at the drugstore next to shipyard and took care of the matted, wet, unbrushed shower hair.

Goodnight.

Chemul, Valentine's, DIRTY THIRTY!!

Holy crap. It's been way too long since I actually posted something. It's been since the beginning of October since something has been posted on this little blog o'mine. I've written quite a bit here and there, little diddies (ditties?) but nothing that was either completed or I was comfortable with posting. Odd for me, I'm a pretty open book.

So, where did we leave off?? GWAR/Lamb of God was amazing. Not much else I can say about it. Got some GWAR goo on me from the mosh pit, almost got sucked into a Wall of Death or Hate or whatever the hell it's called. Interesting to say the least. Bands were great and discovered that I do like Job for a Cowboy, they were pretty damn good.

Okay, what else? I got a job. Working a real job now, not just writing and working temp secretarial jobs. It's temporary for now but I'm loving it. I get to sit in a trailer at a shipyard and watch the day to day trials and tribulations of a small company (who I'm working for) take on a multi-million dollar refit of an accommodation rig. It's like an oil rig only instead of gigantic drill it has some gigantic cranes. I'm still not sure what exactly it does but I do now know what a flange is and I'm starting to understand the differences between all kinds of different pumps and motors. The boys got me some pink work boots and now I'm able to crawl around on the PSS Chemul. It's fun. It's more than just the paper pushing I was hired for. I'm seeing both sides of the job -- the office work and all the shit that goes with that and then the actual work/labour side of things and all the bullshit that comes with that part plus how it all ties together. It's long days but I'm sure it's going to be worth it at the end. Wheee.

Oh and I definitely love all my rig pigs too. hehehe

Miss Lily is seven! Little Miss is four already!! And Mr. Man, my little meatball turned two!! It's crazy watching them grow and become little animals. Today they were literally swinging from the curtains in the living room. Swinging. From the curtains. I was scrubbing the tub thinking they were dancing to the music I put on but no, they were Tarzan and two little Janes. The curtain rod bent and decided to break when I was trying to fix it so now my curtains are hanging up with tacks, looks great. I guess working with pipefitters all day made me bend a little harder than necessary. It's not a pipe, it's a flimsy piece of stuff. What the hell are curtain rods made out of anyway?

Other than climbing the walls, the babies are great. I couldn't ask for better and regardless of the amount of laundry and no matter how many dinkies and dolls I trip over on a daily basis, I couldn't ask for better monsters ...er ... kids.

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Rather it's Half-Price-Chocolate Eve. Not looking forward to it but I am at the same time. It's an over-rated holiday but an excuse to have ice cream cake with my babies. The three best Valentines I could ask for. Fun tinged with bitterness? Definitely. I've once again boarded the bitter bus but we're not going there.

I'm turning 30 in three days. Thirty. 30. Big birthday and I'm looking forward to it. Looking forward to The Dirty Thirty. That's all fine and dandy right now, but please, don't mention it to me Tuesday. I have a funny feeling I won't want the reminder.

And with that ... I'm tired ... goodnight readers ...