Astound

I logged onto Facebook and had 27 notifications, each wishing me "happy birthday" in varying ways. To my dismay, my personality could do nothing but to reply uniquely to every single one.

I got asked today if I was going to go get in my "truck" and "chop down some trees". I threw out the flannel shirt and cap that I was wearing. Too bad, though, 'cause (because) they were new.
Anyway, I ate a coconut and cream cheese icing cupcake today and then drank grapefuit soda right after and subsequently spat it all out and had to go gulp down every millimeter of my mouthwash. I might be poisoned now but I don't really mind because the pain of death is nothing compared to the pain of being called a trucker/logger.

Bye.