Rainy, dreary, and I'm slightly hungover... seems a fitting end to my 31st year. Tomorrow I will be 32. This depressses me, but no more than it has any other year. I hate my birthday. It makes me cry. It brings up memories of decades of crappy birthdays. I try not to wallow in it, but perhaps it's just not in my nature to grin and bare it. Yeah... I'm really not a grin and bare it person.

Now... I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Bahia's having a self absorbed, pity party.' Well... what else is new, right? Wrong!! I just hate my birthday. Have you ever had food poisoning, and it makes you hate, I mean hate whatever food it was that made you sick? Well, that's pretty much my reaction to my birthday. Some really bad stuff has happened on my birthday. I mean super-duper, crappy. Last year sucked the ass. The year before, my 30th birthday, I spent pregnant, at work. My 29th, I spent at home, alone, drinking tequilla. My only birthday present that year was my boyfriend of almost 14 years moving out, on my birthday. I could go on and on... but that would be silly. My point is, it's not a day of joy for me. It's a day of loathing.

This year, I decided to skip it all together. My husband's birthday is just two days after mine, so my plan is to celebrate his birthday instead, bypassing the usual anxiety attacks and weepy eyes. I know I sound nuts. hell, I know I am nuts... but this honestly seems like good therapy to me. From today, until tuesday, it is officially Riotgeek's birthday. We will celebrate, we will have fun, and it will be the best end to the month of August, ever!

As many of you know, my husband treats me like a queen. He makes everyday unique, meaningful and fun. He has brought so much joy and comfort to my life. He works his butt off to provide a good life for us. He's a strong, dependable, funny, loving, gorgeous man and I want him to have the best birthday ever! So anyone who reads this... (all 2 of you ;) ... please wish him a very happy birthday. :)