I just ordered Happy Birthday flowers for my mom. In The Perks of Being a Wallflower, the protagonist says that on your birthday, you should get your mom a gift, too, because she did most of the work. And I think that makes sense. And lucky for my mom, 1. I don't mind having been brought into this crazy world so I don't resent her for doing the work, and 2. I like her as a person so I'm willing to give her props. Unfortunately, my moronic ass wasn't paying attention to filling out the online form so instead of sending flowers to her on Monday, 6/14, I sent it in that I was sending flowers to myself at her office on Saturday, 6/12. It is amazing how many tasks I can perform without actually involving my brain. But I just talked to a customer service rep and got everything worked out. In my defense, I'm still severely jetlagged and am only sleeping between the hours of 12am and 3am.

I'm psyched about the party tomorrow. It should be a blast. I've set my drink limit beforehand at 3 drinks, but I doubt that's gonna hold...my cousins are coming and they know how to provoke my competitive streak with drinking games. Since I have low tolerance to begin with and my cousins and I are having dinner at the bar before the party, I'm just hoping that I'm still conscious by the time people start showing up.

In other news, Peyote buries his own doody. What a considerate little neat freak.

In other news, I got caught up in the basketball game and forgot to celebrate his birthday yesterday. So officially, his birthday is now June 11th instead of June 10th. This date feels more befitting of him anyway. Happy birthday, Peyote! You're 1 year old! I will bring home the cantaloupe that you really wanted. And soon, I'll get you a turtle companion as soon as I figure out whether you're a boy or a girl.