They Say It's Your Birthday

Twenty seven years ago today, I was born.

I'm not feeling very wordy.

My baby is sleeping, my dryer is running, my stomach is rumbling, my cupcakes (yum!) are sitting on the counter.

My eBay things are selling, my hair is getting too long, my fingers are getting guitar calluses, and my life is pretty great.

I like to eat chocolate malts, my friend JP studies techtonic faults, the college greek system is made up of cults, and this is where our story halts.