So yesterday was my birthday, and I turned a whopping 31 years old. I'm now "in my prime", according to my cuz, since 31 is a prime number. Get it? Prime number? Oh well, guess you had to be there.

Anyway, I had all these great plans for my birthday and subsequent days: Peat came home from the Comic Con yesterday morning at 6am and I was going to spend the entire day being pampered and eating the fudge he brought from San Diego. Then we were going to go out to dinner to a trendy restaurant on Smith Street (trendy restaurant central in Brooklyn) which I've been trying to get into for years now. Tonight was supposed to be dinner at my favorite seafood restaurant with my in-laws, and tomorrow was going to be fondue with my folks.

However, the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang awry.

My stomach had been bothering me since last Wednesday; I just figured I was upset that Peat was leaving for California and my nerves were jumpy. But then it continued. And continued. And continued. So I finally went to the doctor today and it turns out I got some sort of stomach bacterial infection thing, so now I can't do ANY of my awesome plans. I spent last night eating nothing but pretzels and feeling wretched. I went to work today and had saltines and blood tests. I'll be doing nothing fun until next week, assuming my antibiotics kick in.

Feh.

So far, being 31 sucks ass.