My 15th Birthday

I can say honestly that yesterday was a really, really good birthday. I slept until eleven and I didn't wake up to the sound of the puppy AWUH AWUH AWUHing, for once. My father made me bacon and a box of donuts and gave me a fifteen dollar iTunes card, which I'll probably save the most of for the release of "****", the new Fall Out Boy DVD. [On the off-chance that they release it on iTunes before the card expires...] Another side note, whenever I see those asterisks I think the title is "Four Stars," as in an album rating. Ha. I suppose the real title is like, SHIT or FUCK or TITS, or something. I digress.

My birthday was super shit awesome. Friday night, Dobbl and her aunt and I went to Happy Sumo, a sushi restaurant, though we ended up waiting almost two hours to get a space at the bar. We actually went back to Debbl's house and all watched House. The sushi was good, and I remembered just how much I actually love tempura shrimp, since it was almost the only thing off the tempura platter I ate.

Dobbl and I got back to her home and her mommy was waiting at the door with a candle stuck into a petit four. I didn't wish for world peace. Sorry, world.

Without going into intense detail, I can say that my birthday was totally cool. It was totally cool, but there was this strike of paranoia that I got and then spent the rest of the night dwelling upon. I thought I might have been pregnant. Which was a completely baseless thing to thing. For one, I've been careful not to be in situations where pregnancy is imminent. For another, I didn't feel at all pregnant in any way. I haven't been sick. I haven't been bloated. I haven't had cramps or been warded away from smells just because of their essence. However, I panicked. And I then told The Boyfriend about my panicking.

Being the good boyfriend that he is, he reassured me and we decided to make a hasty appointment for the local Planned Parenthood so that they could reward us, for our youth and vitality, with a dial of birth control pills and a boysenberry condom.

Alas, what I am worried about now is that in order to score the birth control pills, we have to go through some sort of process. A process involving my ankles in stirrups and cold, cold instruments. And I'm worried that it'll hurt. What if they find something wrong with me I wouldn't have known about otherwise? Or, what if my mother finds out [exactly why I am telling the Internet about this] and... well. The entire world crashes down atop me.

That's what I will be doing some Thursday in the future, and that's why I have been extremely distracted this weekend. Please don't ask me any hard questions. My pap is about to be smeared.