Nobody remembers their favorite tax law.

I am at work.

It is 8:30 at night.

And what's the REASON I am at work at 8:30 at night? One word: Budget.

Alternatively: Bureaucracy.

Never have I been so sure that this kind of work is all wrong for me. I go home depressed and dread having to wake up and come back. But I need this job and the money and benefits it provides. And I like the people I work with. Everyone is really friendly and helpful and funny and they all agree that there are aspects of our work that are just awful. Like when we have to stay late and wait by the phones just in case we're needed. And I can tell you right now that none of the people who are requiring us to be here so late have even stopped to consider that their schedule might be affecting the lives of anyone other than themselves. Call me crazy, but I just don't see the sense in working somewhere that I don't feel at least remotely valuable.

Next time I get a job, I think it will be in teaching. People remember their favorite teachers, man.

Now hiring. Will pay 2 rice cakes per idea.

This is a busy week at work. I have nothing interesting to say because I haven't been anywhere except my office and my bed. Today is Administrative Professionals Day, though, so if you have one, do something nice in honor of yours. If you are one, good job working like a dog to make your office run like it does. As best I can tell, it's often a thankless job. My mama is a secretary at a high school, and if that flaky principal and those self-absorbed assistant principals don't do something special for her and the others, well. I don't even know what. I don't even KNOW! That's meant to be threatening, for the record, and leave the consequences a mystery so as to insight fear and submission. Sometimes it's hard to convey emotion without a voice or face.

Friday is Mike's birthday. That is meant to be a dejected, Debbie Downer-style announcement. Because I have no present. I don't even have an idea for a present. A few weeks ago, I had a dream that I decided what to buy him for his birthday, and I woke up and realized it really was a good idea- a DVR for the bedroom tv. Awesome idea! And I never have meaningful or productive dreams. I was pumped. But I know nothing about technology. Do I go to Best Buy? Do I call the cable company? Do I pay for it up front, or every month, or both? How on earth do I set it up? Ultimately, I just had to tell Mike I had the idea, and he went out and got it. And added baseball channels. ::sigh:: And that appears to have been my one good idea for the month of April, because now I'm slap out.

And I've got to get busy working on all this work that keeps me so busy. I don't even have TIME to have an idea. I need a personal administrative professional.

The whole weekend was one big party

This weekend we celebrated our birthday and Mike's and my first anniversary. On Friday my sister and Mike and my friends threw me an amazing (and surprising) surprise party. It was great. My friend Johnny made cookies and Ali made queso and Mike made burgers and chicken tacos and somebody made margaritas and boozy Arnold Palmers (Firefly and lemonade) and it was magical. There was even a theme. We all really love the song Electric Feel by a band called MGMT. The music video is amazing and psychadelic. Your basic hip young sexy people partying in the jungle, with an appearance by the Country Bears, and then the band rides bikes to the moon. You get the idea. So they decorated our house to look like the video and everybody dressed up like the people in the video and it was really perfect and great. These people know how to throw a party. I wish I had pictures to show you, but alas I am one of those people who complains about never having pictures of anything and always forgetting the camera or feeling awkward making that squinty I'm-taking-a-snapshot face. You know the face.

Then on Saturday we went with my family and Mike's parents to The Melting Pot, and I'll tell you right now that the only way to improve your very own electric surprise party is to follow it up with a trip to The Melting Pot. I don't know what they do to those little hunks of teriyaki sirloin or those brownie bits, but you should prepare yourself for the day that I find out, because there will be rejoicing throughout the land. Man was that dinner good. I hope for your sake that you have been to a Melting Pot, unless you happen to be someone who's terribly practical and has a problem spending a week's worth of your salary just to cook your own dinner. In which case, I'm sorry, but I don't think it's going to work out between us.

In closing, I am happier every day that I get to be married to my best friend and my favorite person and I hope we have 700 more years together.

I love you but those bread cubes are mine, heifer.

It's my birthday today! It's also my sister's birthday, on account of we're twins. But whether we're identical or fraternal is still up in the air, because apparently in 1986 the most reliable way to tell was some type of scale that ran from 0 to 20, and all they could tell our parents is that Emily and I scored an 11. It's a fool-proof scientific measurement they've worked up, isn't it?

Anyway. There is a picture of us from last summer. You can decide for yourself whether we are identical or fraternal. Just, you know, be sure to go about it scientifically.

And happy birthday to my beautiful hilarious sister! Whom I will see on Saturday for the most dramatic episode of Birthday Dinner ever. Cause we're goin to the Melting Pot, and those fondue forks are very stabby.