Saturday, April 22, 2017

Question: How are you going to celebrate your birthday?

I have a question for you. You, plural, like allayous.

How does everyone know when my birthday is?

So this is obviously one of those things about my blog, one of those not-so-bad, unavoidable, inconveniency things. When an occasion roles around, or an event eclipses our world, I'm going to get multiple questions about it. And I'm going to answer them all. And I only post once a day.

Yesterday was my birthday, and yet, I must answer this question today. The problem is, I didn't see things very clearly, and I kinda answered this one yesterday. Also, I posted a collection of birthday posts. That leaves me with little to fill this post with that isn't going to be redundant.

I just had a thought. I could tell the truth?

The first half of yesterday's list was partially true. I woke up, left my wife to sleep, and got to work on the blog. I was interrupted by a call from my grandmother which I took with mustard because I don't like relish. We talked for an hour and forty-five minutes, because a boy's relationship with his grandma is a special one.

Then, I attempted to go out for lunch with my friend and my missus. The first place we went was awfully full. They had a forty-five minute wait. I said, "But it's my birthday," and got a round of blowjobs from the scantily clad staff. (Sorry. Dammit. It's hard not to embellish. I got a quicky handjob in the bathroom from a line cook named Carlito.)

Okay, okay. We just left without any blowjobs or handjobs (and Carlito's phone number) and went to another place. I had a lamb burger and pulled pork poutine. My wife had a salted caramel milkshake, which I stole after a well-placed neck chop. (I'm seriously incapable of keeping this together. I swear I'm so honest in my real life. This must be an outlet. I can't stop!)

After I set that fucking place on fire with my mind, we went across the street and got some beers for afternoon, sunny-deck drinking. I got a Stiegl radler, a Stella and a Guinness to cover all the bases.

For supper, we went out for sushi. My wife isn't a big fan, so I took advantage - anal style - of my birthday privilege.

Later, I was given presents. These presents were comic book and Nirvana themed. I was a happy puppy.

Then, Rick and Morty. Then, a movie with Elijah Wood (who I'm quite taken with) on Netflix. We played on the YouTube for a while then my wife went to bed, and I spent the last hour or so by myself, appreciating the entirety of my existence with one hand on my fully erect penis.

Short Answer: I guess you can take what you want from this. Most of it is real. More of it than you'd probably believe, now that I look back over it. Talkin' 'bout you, Carlito! Nice gams, buddy. (Also, I love relish.)

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