My birthday weekend ROCKED. My friends and I got a police escort to the club downtown, FREE Rock Star parking (The trick here is to look helpless and lost. We actually WERE pretty helpless and lost - thank you, Officers Mike and Brian), and somewhere after 3:00 a.m. the Air Force bought us breakfast. I'm not so damn old. One guy on the dance floor (we'll call him Leather Man) INSISTED that I'm Paula Abdul. Holla, holla.

Compassion is the deep awareness of the suffering of another, coupled with the desire to relieve it.

Well, I'm older. The Starbucks people sang to me (I think I'm in love with the Starbucks guy). I know I'm getting balloons and cake at work today. Twenty-five was plain awful, 26 was alright because it was then that I learned I'm a Greek Yankee Doodle (March 25 is Greek Independence Day), and I think at 27 I've reached a place where my birthday is ok again. It used to be my favorite holiday, until I reached my mid-20s, and started to feel old. Now I'm in my *gulp* late 20s, and being older doesn't seem so daunting.
At least I never have to make the mistakes one makes when she's oh, say, twenty-one. And I'm not thirty yet. I have plenty of friends who will be thirty before me. (I love you guys. Thanks for taking the sting out of it.) And NBC has elected to make MY BIRTHDAY a second Thursday this week, so Friends is on. And I just got sung to again. I work with 1,000 people who are just like me, so chances are, there will be more singing.

I'm taking myself off caffeine this week. I bet I can do it, too. Wanna watch?

The ultra cute events and celebrations guy, Burton, just bopped through this office, wearing a kilt and passing out snack-sized packages of Lucky Charms. "they're always after me Lucky Charms." Reminds me of the time Dad locked the Lucky Charms in his office, and Travis, who was like four years old at the time, cried, so Mom had to call Dad at work, long distance, to find out where the Lucky Charms were, so Trav could have a bowl before school. I am a never-ending well of cute stories about my Monkeybrother.

In the life of every radio person, few things strike fear into a heart like dead air. This is why I must have the radio on in the car. A close second to this torment is being locked out of the radio station with no cell phone. I came upstairs, left my purse, told Bob I had to run back down for my headphones, he said cool, he was gonna go back to production, and I took off. I got the phones out of my car, and when I got back to the door, I realized I had no card key. For about a minute and a half I stood out there, jingling my keys and reflecting on my cognitive therapy back at Warm Springs after brain surgery.
"I know I have problem-solving skills....now what are they?"
I jumped in my car and sped over to the gas station nearby, quickly explained the emergency and used their phone to call Bob on his cell. Thank God he answered. I said, "Bob, Josie. I'm at the Diamond Shamrock. I have no card key. Danger, Will Robinson." So, after picking himself up off the floor, where he fell laughing, he sent his son, Bobby, down to let me in. No dead air. Whew.

Hey, if you're like me and you like a lot of change, and you move a lot, invite people to your house for a pizza party Saturday, and when they show up, hand them a box.

Last night I went to the grocery store after work, because I needed to pick up some Texas-shaped tortilla chips for a potluck at work today. I saw a man in the tortilla aisle who had a really pronounced frown line in his forehead, and a terrible-looking black scar. I averted my eyes, because I thought, I'll bet he hates being stared at, with that awful deformity. I know I hate it when people stare at me. I saw him again in the produce section, all the while feeling sorry for him. I got to the check-out line, and when I looked up, I saw a lot of people with the same mark! Duh. It was Ash Wednesday. I didn't get to church, but I called my chaplain to make sure I'm still in good standing.

"Little girl you sure look nice, would you like a ride?"
"Hayell no," she said. "I wanna drive."
Forget pink and purple paislies
Little mellow yellow daisies
There ain't no pot of gold
In her rainbow
Her favorite color is chrome.

What's your favorite piece of clothing? I have several, which maybe explains why I have so many clothes. I seem to have an affinity for things that sparkle. I still have, and wear on occasion, a shirt from when I was sixteen. It has sequin roses on the front, and I wore it to break up with my boyfriend on, oddly enough, September 11, 1992. Still love the shirt though. I love this black silk sweater I have that fits so many occasions. It's one of those things you throw on when you need to look fabulous in fifteen minutes. So...what's yours?