I'm pretty sure the rules governing Australian legal work immigration into Oz for US citizens were written by ex-Brits who just really, really, really don't like Americans in any form. And they're hell-bent into making me, and others like me trying to get in, pay for winning that pesky war.
Eating healthy, even on one's birthday in the hopes that eating better will prolong the number of birthdays one has, is not all that it's cracked up to be. At all. Free birthday T-bone steak with loaded baked potato, anyone? Anyone???
And, finally, potentially the most damning proof that the Big Person isn't happy with me these days:
For the very first time in all of my years on this fine planet, it finally does not rain, sleet, snow, hail, tornado, flood, or otherwise rain down something meteorological from the skies on my birthday. Bitch of it is...I couldn't get out to enjoy any of it this year. (Wonder if it's too late to ask for a do over?)