1.  One of my professors starts each class by asking us to describe something that week that made us happy. My hand is literally always the first one in the air.  Sometimes I try to wait a few seconds to give someone else a chance to go first, but that five seconds KILLS ME.

2.  The next time someone pulls out a picture of their kid from their wallet and expects me to make high-pitched, cutesy comments about it, I’m going to pull out a picture of my new sofa slip-cover from Ikea and ask him or her what they think I should name it: Sexy Brown or Velvet Butter?

3.  Thanks to my lovely friend, Cracker-Jack, I rode my bike in heels to the bar this weekend.  It was surprisingly easy and made me feel super sexy.  The Southerner also made a special concession and didn’t bitch at me about not wearing my helmet.  It took me an hour to make my hair look like I just woke up and I was not about to ruin it.

4.  My mother.  My wonderful, super-beautiful and inspiring mother sent me a birthday package in the mail with the red skinny jeans from Old Navy and a new dress.  She completely ignored my pleas not to get me anything.  She has no idea how much getting that package meant to me and how much she means to me.

5.  Seriously, do you see the happiness and sappy-love feelings radiating out of my ass yet? Perhaps you need a picture of me in my new red skinnies:

6.  The Southerner has been on a cooking spree lately.  Luckily, he’s focused on Mexican food.  It’s like he secretly knows how badly I wanted to be Mexican when I was little.  He made tamales from scratch this weekend and taught me how to roll them by hand and steam them.

Then we had some drinks, watched the speech from Independence Day together, and went to bed.  All-in-all a pretty perfect day in my book.

7.  If anyone ever tells you that white-water rafting is a cure for a hangover, do not listen to them:

8. My brother is coming to visit this weekend for my birthday.  This is the first time he’s been able to visit me since I started my moving spree two years ago.  I’ve never been able to share with him where I live or have him in my home.  I can’t wait to wake up Friday morning and know that he’ll just be the next room over for three WHOLE days.  Until two years ago, we were always just the next room over or, once we got older, just a ten-minute drive away.  This has been the hardest adjustment for me.  For weeks after I moved from Atlanta, he would still call to ask me if I wanted to have dinner, than remember that I’d moved and be like, “Oh shit, I keep forgetting you don’t live here anymore!”

So, just guess what I’m going to say I’m happy about next class!