In case you weren’t aware (read: In case you haven’t read my blog for the past 9 days), today is my birthday
I am 39
I’m not capable of blowing out that many candles on my cake in one breath without passing out.
I’m a single mom, if I want a cake I have to bake it myself…guess I’m not getting a cake.
If I don’t get a present this year from my kids, I may just cry (hello Ex, this is a subtle reminder for you).
39 x 2 = 78, It doesn’t take a genius to see that I am almost dead.
Yes, I’m almost 40…but I’m still sexy…well as long as the lights are off, the candles are lit, and you have had a few cocktails…oh yeah, closing your eyes while looking at me will help too.
Birthday sex…it’s good, unfortunately, I’m not getting any!
You will not see me in my birthday suit…it’s disgusting. If I could return it and get a new one, believe me, I would.
My financial advisor never signs my birthday card…it’s a stamp…it smeared this year.
I don’t care if you are 6 and 9 Hamilton & Gibson, bringing me breakfast in bed is great, however, arguing about who did what the entire time you are presenting me with breakfast only makes my head hurt.
I will settle for nothing less than Macaroni and cheese out of a box for dinner tonight. Hamilton and Gibson, I hope you are reading this. Mommy’s gonna be hungry when she gets home from work.
Grandma, it’s ok to stop sending me a $5 check every year…we’re good!
To Darryl Strawberry, Liza Minnelli, James Taylor, Alec, my twin brother and Jen, his wife…can you all please step aside for one day…just once I would like to have one birthday all to myself.
Oh…and one last thing…Please don’t sing Happy Birthday to me. Hearing that song is like hearing nails on a chalkboard. Instead, might I request a little 50 Cent…
It’s your birthday
We gon’ party like it’s yo birthday
We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday