Yes we're going to a party party.

 

My eighth, or ninth, birthday. Look, nobody was very excited on that one, either.

To all of those who wished me a Happy Birthday, I offer ten million thank yous and my endless love (sorry, Lionel Ritchie) and I might offer to have some of your babies but HELL NO to going down that road again. Besides, take a good look at that kid up there. Do you really want my DNA?

Now, I couldn't help but notice that I had some visitors who, for whatever lame ass reason they care to concoct, did NOT leave me birthday wishes. You know who you are, people, and so do I. I know where to find you, and I am in fact watching you on satellite right this minute (don't ask questions - I am just that awesome, ok?). I'd tell you to watch your backs, but frankly, I'm too lazy to come and get you. Must be your lucky day.

Oh, hey! I just learned to count, and it would appear that there are NINE candles on that cake. Now we can be pretty unconventional in the Midwest, but I think it's safe to say that I am turning nine here. Ok. Glad we cleared that up.

I TOTALLY missed my calling as a detective.

Comments

[mp]

I LOVE your dad's TShirt. Remember when almost every Tshirt in your drawer had some stoopid saying on it? Was this a swim party or do members of your family often hang out half nekid?
LOL

[Robyn]

Yes, this was a swim party. And actually, that's not my dad - it's my Uncle Ed. But I love the t-shirt, too.