I miss being a kid.

Really, I do. When you're a kid, the only real worry you have is if The Count will ever overcome his Obsessive Counting Disorder, or if you should have a KitKat or Cadburys for dinner. When I look at kids they're always in a world of their own, and something as simple as a plastic bag floating in the wind is enough to amuse them. Of course, if the plastic bag is over their head and they're turning a slight tint of purple, then I think there's reason for alarm.

But seriously, how many of us wish that we were kids again? It's amazing how many of my friends have recently mentioned that they wish they could turn back the clock and go back to their childhood. Well a part of me wishes that too, but then again I had a pretty unusual childhood, what with my drag acts at age 4 singing Madonna's Papa Don't Preach.

Stop laughing.

There's something about kids and the whole babies thing that tends to change people so much. I mean you're responsible for another person - another life, and that can bring you joy or make you crap in your pants. Take for instance the other day when I was out shopping at a bookstore with a friend. We reached the Health section, and before I knew it, we were sitting on the floor with mounds of books around us on pregnancy and babies. Within ten minutes, we were talking about things like underwater births, food you need to eat, the labour dance, and nursing tactics. We got so caught up in all this baby talk that pretty soon I wanted to spit out one of the little buggers. That is of course, until she showed me a picture of a fully pregnant woman who looked like she had coconut shells for breasts.

Seriously - they were huge.

A friend of mine said to me recently that before my big 2-5 day, I need to finish a little list. She said that I need to do the following things in order either before or on the day:

1) Feel great
2) Be thankful
3) Embrace life

Sounds like a list you'd give a freaking inmate, but I'm going to humor her and do this later on in the week - if my crap memory can remember of course.

My cell phone has also chosen this crucial moment in time to die on me - the crappy speaker in it now makes any caller sound like Joan Rivers, so I've resorted to texting people furiously this week. Hey if this keeps up, my midnight conversations will soon turn into textual intercourse.

Saucy.

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