Apparently, nobody gives a fuck if it's my birfday.

Fuck you 50 cent. Fiddy cent, half dollar, 2 quarters... whatever. By the way..it's pronounced FIFTY CENT..get your shit straight. Your not that gangster. I got shot 9 times! I got shot 9 times! You're stupid anyway, after the first shot..I think I would have hauled ass up outta there.



I'm having a shitty birthday and I'm taking it out on a rapper. Only because in my younger days, you would find me screaming at anyone that would listen, 'And you know we don't give a fuck cause it's my birfday'.



Getting older sucks sweaty donkey balls. It does. It's so not exciting anymore. It's just.....another day.



Yes, I got tons of shout outs on Facebook. I'm not ungrateful at all. It made me happy that people acknowledged the day of my birth.



But, shouldn't my husband do the same? I got a 'Happy Birthday' this morning.

He took me to Longhorns for dinner, that was nice of him.

And then we came home, and he went to sleep. Fucker.

Cake? Nope.

Card? Nope.

Present? Nope.

Party? Nope.

Sex? He can go fuck himself.

I guess I wouldn't be so bitter if I didn't do shit for him on his birthday. I have done something for that man EVERY year since we have been together. Every single year. I have surprised him twice....and that's hard for me to do. I can't keep my mouth shut!

And seriously, not even a card? How hard is that? He KNEW how much I wanted a new camera. I thought I had drilled 'Nikon D40' into his head a million times over the last 2 months. Is he fucking brain dead?

Sorry for the bitchy blog today. But, you can blame Clay. I do.