I barely left my bed all day. It's weird. Every time I say I'm gonna drag my lazy ass over to the park, the weather's crappy. At first I was going anyway, then I noticed how crappy it really looked outside. I love rain. When we were kids, Kat and I used to pull our toys on the bed and pull the covers over us. What happened huh? How did we go from being that green to what we are now.

So I called up Presto Pizza earlier to get dinner and the guy on the phone calls me 'sweetie' a couple times. Then I'm thinking, "Crap! He thinks I'm a girl and now I have to walk over there to pick up my tortellini. Kill me! Oh ... wait. The burly Italian guys will do that for me."

Why do people always have to assume? I mean ... why even call me 'sweetie' to being with? Just like people calling here and then asking if I'm Mark's wife. And then I have to tell them that he's not married. Not even correct my gender. I've found that it's useless sometimes. I just try not to give into the frustration and the feeling that I should rip my shirt off. If it was something I wanted, it wouldn't be a problem. If I were into drag or something. But I'm not. And I don't feeling that I'm deceiving people. Guys (ones I figure are straight) would flirt with me on the phone. And I always try to steer away from that.

Then there are times when I don't need to say anything at all. When I lose my gender just by standing in a line at Kinko's. Or in an elevator. Or on the sidewalk. Hell, about frickin anywhere. I have no Adam's apple. Maybe there's a way to grow one? Wait ... that's called puberty. D'oh! Ok ... so maybe I'll get some play dough and slap it on my throat.