I bought me a pair of pretty jeans today. But they're called Ultra Low-Rise Boot-Cut Jeans, which means I should have thought about my non-existant Britney Spears tummy before I bought them. Because you know, I might have the tendency to pull them up to cover the, um, plumpness.

But honestly, I don't give a fuck, really. I just hope they don't fall down. And they seem to be perfect for showing off the tatto I'm getting on Saturday. I'm *very* nervous about the whole thing -- although what really freaks me out is the pain part of it. I don't want to be there in extreme pain for an hour and a half, thank you.

For some reason, I feel I should tell my mother I'm getting it. LOL. I know, I'm a grown woman who knows what she's doing, but I feel I won't enjoy it as much if she doesn't like it. Am I a freak? Gah.

And my birthday is on Sunday. I hate birthdays. I get cranky, anxious and depressed.

But I love the presents part of it.