Pathetic Redux

I have a birthday coming up soon, and more than anything else (more than a new digital camera, a new iPod, a new laptop computer, tickets to London, tickets to Sydney, the will to get out of bed early every morning to swim/go to the gym/run/get back in shape -- all of which I want, btw) – what I really want for my birthday is: a stack of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, nacho cheese Doritos, a Coke, a homemade Betty Crocker yellow cake with chocolate icing and colored sprinkles, a tall cold glass of milk to go along with the cake, and cable TV. Oh, and a quiet room with a nice comfortable couch with a lock on the door so that I can watch the cable TV and scarf down as much cake and PB&J sandwiches as I’d like and not have anyone bother me with comments like, “Man – that’s a hell of a lot of food you’re putting down your gullet.” or questions like, “Are you really just going to sit there all day and eat junk food and watch TV?”

Seriously, that is what I want for my birthday.

And before any of you write me back to say, “Wow, that’s kinda pathetic.” Save your keystrokes. I know it is pathetic – we’ve already established how pathetic I am.