Today I was nearly killed by a pigeon.

Weather is lying to me. It says it's 55* here, but it's not. I am freezing! I think I might try and drag out the electric blanket tomorrow.

Today be a holiday. So what did I do today? I almost got hit in the face with a pigeon. That was basically almost the high point of the day. I was meeting Steven in the city for lunch with himself, Sam, and Dana*. I went to Quincy Adams because I couldn't remember how to get to Wollaston. I'm going to remember, though, because it's $5 to park now. It used to be $3.

Anyhow, the train got there and I'm getting on when this apparently-trapped pigeon comes flapping for hell out the door. It caught my cheek and that was because I ducked seeing the bastard come flying at me. I should have gone home then. Any day that starts with a pigeon nearly hitting you cannot go well.

Lunch was good. I can't remember where we went, but I got a sandwich the size of my head. Half of it is going to be tomorrow's lunch. It also came with a baby green salad with oil and basalmic vinegar dressing. This was only $8.50! Sam wanted pastry after, so we went to Modern. It had a HUGE line, but usually the line there moves quickly. Not this time. We were there forever and then, not as soon as I had taken a bite of my pastry, in come kids with balloons.

Here's where I point out that I am an idiot. I don't carry my EpiPen all the time. I have one in the car some of the time and usually I remember to shove one in my bag. I also don't remember to bring my inhaler all the time. Today was one of those days.

I was halfway to the door when my throat started closing. There were two people, one of which had a balloon, in my way. I choked out "Latex allgery, MOVE!" and the woman, mother I assume, gave me a nasty look, refused to move, and put her arm around the kid like I was personally offending them. I shoved them out of my way. When I was outside, I actually had a few minutes of my throat being completely shut, probably because of those couple minutes I had to spend shoving my way out. The stupid rib I cracked is killing me from all the hacking I did and I'm exhausted now.

Anyhow, what the hell is wrong with people that they don't move when someone says something like that? I know from experience I look like shit when I start having a reaction. I get splotchy and hivey and turn kind of pinky-purple. Why would you continue to block the goddamn door and more still, but your arm around your kid?? I mean, really, do you think I was kidding about any of this so I could shove people?

I've been basically sacked out on the couch since I got home. I talked to my neighbour for a while, but now I'm stretched out watching DwtS**. I'm so glad they've got Pretty Boy Floyd on there even if I don't think he can really dance as well as he talks trash, but I like him. No one's going to beat my girl Leila last season though. She was ripped off with third.

Steven's got shit to do, which means he won't be home for another hour or so. That means bachelor night for me! I'm probably going to drink beer for dinner because I'd have to cook otherwise. If I have a chocolate stout, that's like a full meal with dessert, isn't it? I once justified tequila as veg. He'll probably cook something when he gets home, at least.

So DwtS tonight and tomorrow, new SVU and LA Ink tomorrow, and Pushing Daisies and Bionic Woman Wednesday. There's nothing on Thursdays and I think the fights are back to Friday, so that's what my week looks like because I have no social life.

* for when I forget her name.
** Dancing with the Stars