Word of the Day: misanthrope I found out yesterday that Bob Schneider's playing at the Saxon Pub in Austin on my birthday. Oh man, oh man, oh man. That would be so so very awesome to go to. I'm excited even though I know I can't go. That would be the second best birthday ever for me, second only to last birthday in Ireland where that one pub sang me 'Happy Birthday.' JD asked me if I'm going to buy alcohol on my birthday. I said probably. He asked me what. I said I didn't know, probably some wine. I'm an alcohol elitist. I don't drink, and I only drank really in Rome and I didn't drink that much when I did drink. Could I use 'drink' more in one sentence? Probably. So I discovered, while in Rome, that I didn't like beer all that much, that I didn't like rum, I didn't like tequila [or maybe it was just a strange European margarita], I really didn't like Marsala wine, but I liked vodka, I liked Bulmers hard cider and I liked the cheap wine from Le Mark. I don't know either, it's weird. Although, man, if I could find me some Bulmers, not going to see Bob Schneider wouldn't be so bad. I took Patrick to the doctor for a check-up yesterday afternoon. Dr. Dentler looked him over and said there was nothing wrong with him [he didn't even mention the diaper rash Patrick still has] and he sees no need to do any follow-up or developmental studies on him. He weighed in at 5 pounds, 6 ounces, so I must be doing something right. That's slightly reassuring. Le sigh. I've got so much to do, but it's cold and rainy outside and I don't wanna. So there.