Soup du Jour
Ok, what needs to be said about your own birthday? The less said, the better, I suspect. I will say that yesterday I woke up with acne-esque pink mounds all over my face. I was never zit prone as a teen and haven’t had problems as an oldster, so this was unexpected and not cool. I thought I was being smart by starting to wear tinted moisturizer rather than foundation and powder since it has been so disgusting and humid, but my light cosmetics plan must’ve backfired on me. Neutrogena can go to hell.
Then, I was a block from work, on my way to get sushi for lunch and I started to spontaneously “poop soup” (I told you I'm starting to warm to Rosie). This must’ve been payback for using that phrase last week amongst company that hates bathroom humor and told me to stop and I wouldn’t. I won’t go into the detail (you know, job prospects and all) but it pretty much was what it sounds like. I actually think it was an unfortunate side effect of binging on birthday See’s candy that I’d ravaged like a wild animal the night before. Apparently, at 34 you begin losing control of your bowels and get hit with the bad skin you thought you managed to avoid in high school.