I think Danielle has gone off the deep end. She's in L.A. doing the actress thing, and I'm afraid the ozone deficit has seeped into her brain. We share the same birthday, and her happy b-day e-mail contained all the New Age sentiment and chichi tone of a Celine Dion song. Because I don't like to gossip [insert irony], I won't share the details. Let's just say it's always a treat when someone says, "What a wonderful world we were both so blessed to be birthed in." Birthed. Thank you, Danielle, for making me feel like a Cocker Spaniel on my birthday. That said, I love Danielle. Look for her scene in Vanilla Sky.

I worked from 3 p.m. to 1 a.m. on my birthday. I didn't even get to collect tips because it was a training session. Of course I didn't tell a soul it was my birthed day. They figured that out when, after work, we got a drink at Bahama Breeze and I got ID'd. I got all my drinks (a Jack and Coke, an Aruba Red, a Bahamarita, a shot of Grey Goose Vodka) for free. And after 10 hours of not eating, you better believe I inhaled my food like a pre-2001 Carnie Wilson.

So this morning, I'm so tired I can't sleep. I came into my parents' room, and my mom was quite upset because she didn't see me at all yesterday. "Your face looks so swollen," she said. You can't hear that enough. Under her advisement, I'm doing absolutely nothing today. I'm sure I'll rebel, clean the garage, lift furniture and wash my car.

Last night, in my drunken dream, I was in a Hell in which all I did was run margaritas to nasty, 50-year-old women with fake tans and even faker ta ta's. Funny, that's pretty much what I did at work last night.

Song of the Day
"A Change Would Do You Good" by Sheryl Crow

Book of the Day
"How to be Good" by Nick Hornby