*AHEM* Maybe it's just me, but I've come up with a weird observation. I pour my heart and soul out in my last few entries and I get almost zilch in the way of comments. Then I have other entries with pictures and suddenly I get flooded with comments, especially the one with the stripper waving her crotch in my face. o.O Like I said, maybe it's just me, but I sense an interesting correlation here. Like maybe I'm not being as appreciated for my diary writing and that maybe all the pictures are getting in the way of that.

I don't know what to do about this, but I'm seriously considering pulling out every identifiable picture of myself in this diary. I'm thinking that if my diary writing is good enough, it should be able to stand on it's own without me having to call attention to myself with all those pictures. So OK, I admit it, I may have been "attention whoring" myself with all those pictures.

"Hi, I'm Derrick and I'm an attention whore, look at all my pics. Wanna fuck? Please write me a note or sign my guestbook right away. Spank you very much. P.S. got any nudes?"

Well, maybe I didn't use those exact words, but maybe I should have because that's more or less along the lines of what I was thinking... =p Come to think of it, going back and editing out all my pictures sounds like a whole lot of work and it being the weekend I'm not exactly in the "working" mood, so I'll hold off on that for now. Don't be surprised however if inspiration strikes and all the pics in my diary just disappear...

Besides, to steal a clich�, I have bigger fish to fry. Yup, it's that time of year for me yet again. October, the month of my much dreaded birthday. Really, I was kind of hoping to be all low-key about the whole thing perhaps even sweeping the whole messy affair under the rug and forgetting that it's even going to happen. Maybe I should smear the blood of a paschal lamb all over my door and hope this whole thing just passes over.

Unfortunately there are too many people in my life who, however well-intentioned, are coming along and reminding me that the entire sordid day, the day of dread, the day of my birth is indeed immanent. My mom wants to throw a party for me, but I don't know, I'd rather just go to a bar or a club and get fucked-up drunk, hopefully taking out whichever brain cells are responsible for making my own birthday feel like a complete downer.

I don't know why my birthday was is so depressing. I think part of it is Ray. Ever since he died, birthdays have never been quite the same. We used to celebrate our birthdays together and it was just so fucking fun. Now it's just a painful reminder that things will never be the same again, that things will never be that good or that happy again. I mean how could it?

Combine that with the fact that I'm not getting any younger. In fact I'm really turning out to be a fucking old bastard. Anyone who has look through the bio portions of my diary and my other entries in general will know that I have never once revealed my chronological age in this diary. I have done this for a very good reason. It's because I'm fucking old. I look in the mirror and think I can't be this fucking old, but then I look at the birthdate on my driver's license and it turns out that yeah, I AM that fucking old.

While my contemporaries are finished with their degrees are married, have 2-1/2 children (one in the oven), their white picket fenced suburban houses with the 3-car garages, worried about responsible things like mortgages and what school to put their kids in, I'm staggering half drunk in the night clubs trying to score digits from the any hottie willing to to give me the time of day (or evening as the case may be). Gosh, I'm such a fucking champ... Um, not.

How old am I? Well I'm fucking glad you asked that question. Well ok you didn't literally ask, but you thought about asking, didn't you, and you are curious about it aren't you? Well ok, it so happens that there is an alternative need for me to reveal my age publicly. The reason? I seem to be attracting an abundance of underage diarylanders. Although being an underage diarylander is not necessarily a bad thing since a good majority of those who inhabit this diary host are indeed of the teen and "tween" age. Having underage chicks "sweat my nuts" however is probably not the coolest thing for me since my ass, however old, is still too cute for jail. So if you happened to be underage and you also happen to be sweating my nuts, please, por favor, don't sweat my nuts at least until you turn 18 (or whatever age happens to be the legal age of consent in your state or country). I'm old enough to be your daddy both literally and maybe even figuratively. But let's not go there... After you become legal, please feel free to resume the sweatage of my nuts because I rather enjoy any attention directed in my crotch area. ;)

Still, to emphasize my point above, I'm going to need to violate my first and second rules of diary writing and just reveal my age. At present I am 31 years old and when my birthday comes along I'm going to turn 32. I'm not going to give the exact date of my birthday because I don't want a bunch of people greeting me "Happy Birthday" when it's a day that's far from happy. If you are reading this and you love me, please forget about my birthday!!! I don't know, maybe I'll eventually come to terms with it, I mean I've survived the last few and they haven't exactly been joyous occasions, but for right now, no. I so just want to fucking forget about the whole thing.

Anyway, it's time for me to get the fuck out of work.

Hasta-la-bye-bye, baby...