THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!

I'm celebrating my birthday today over here at Artichoke Heart Headquarters!

I'm not telling you which one, but suffice it to say . . . I'm getting kind of old. Well, not old old, but geez, old in a baffled, "I don't know how I got to be thirty-(fill-in-the-blank) years old already when I don't really feel that much different from when I was twenty-(fill-in-the-blank) years old" kind of old.

I also wish to formally object to the scheduling of less-than-scintillating administrative-type committee meetings at 8:30 a.m. on my birthdays. There really should be some sort of rule.

In fact, I shouldn't be blogging right now. I'm going to be tardy. Ugh.

In fact, it's 7:50 a.m. and I just poured myself another cup of coffee and I'm still stumbling about in my pajamas. Blogging at this very moment constitutes what I would refer to as a Rather Poor Life Choice. Particularly as I'm just realizing that salient materials for this meeting are, in fact, located in my office, which means I need to stop over and pick then up a priori.

Fuckitty fuck-fuck-fuck.

Hmm . . . 7:55 a.m. Tardier and now even more fucked.

Bad Artichoke Heart! Bad-Tardy-Fucked Artichoke Heart!!

7:59 a.m. Still fucked. Hee.

Did I mention that it's my birthday?

UPDATE TO PUMPKIN UPDATE

Behold the glory of the irrationally- and hugely-coveted Albino Pumpkin! It's albino-ness, in tandem with its pumpkin-ness, have left me beside myself with happiness. When I snagged it out of the parking-lot pumpkin display at the Hy-Vee this week, I wandered through the aisles in a blissful haze (which, okay, may have been partially exacerbated by general lack of sleep and aggressive over-caffeination), and I wanted to hold up my Albino Pumpkin and show it off to passers-by: See? Look at my Albino Pumpkin. Isn't it marvelous? But I didn't. Because that would have been dorky.

So I'll just post pictures of my Albino Pumpkin for everyone to admire on the internet, instead. (Which, realistically, may even escalate the Dorkage Factor, I realize, but you know what? Too fucking bad!)

Thoughtful readers have kindly taken the time to notice that The Bean Bean has plumped up rather nicely from the tiny, sickly smidge of an abandoned kitten that he was upon his arrival at the Artichoke Heart House. He was so tiny and wispy and frail that I nicknamed him The Beansprout, which later became The Bean Bean. Of course, now that he's filling out so nicely, perhaps he's turning into a veritable Garbanzo Bean?

I know, I know . . . I've been Cat and Pumpkin Blogging for three straight entries now. What can I say? The semester's been kicking me in the ass a little bit these past few weeks. Which seems to cause, well . . . obsessive Cat and Pumpkin Blogging.