Ted Lardy

My birthday is this week.  It is always one of my favorite occasions and seems to always be one of–if not the–most disappointing days of the year, apart from Administrative Professional’s Day, which I find wholly depressing because even those celebrating it know that a day in their honor doesn’t dampen the reality that administrative professionals probably make less money than professional hobos.  Anyway, I always have such high hopes for my birthday, at the same time knowing that no birthday gift or party will come close to my 6th birthday at the skating rink with the unicorn cake.  Fuck, see people, that’s all is takes for an incredible birthday–one fucking unicorn cake!  I should clarify, I mean a unicorn cake, not a cake of unicorns fucking.  Wait … maybe I didn’t think this through, because that does sound pretty awesome…Anyway, because I’m too old to stay up until 10 p.m. and will turn into a pumpkin if I’m out past midnight (read: the structural integrity of my adult diaper pad will start to fail) I’ve decided to start celebrating my birthday at 9 a.m. this year.  Surely, by doing so I am in a prime position to maximize attendance by my equally old friends, who are two in number and one is pregnant so clearly this is going to be one hell of a party.  Don’t get me wrong, just because I’m old, lame, and my tits have taken up residence in my socks, doesn’t mean I don’t want to celebrate my birthday by getting embarrassingly drunk and then forgetting how embarrassingly drunk I got.  I am, by all accounts, a cougar now, so I think this behavior on a birthday is socially acceptable as long as I’m wearing a pair of Seven jeans and a Fred Shardy t-shirt or whatever the fuck his name is.  In any event, I’m starting early and ending just a few hours after that, but in those few hours will party hard enough to go back in time and relieve the constant disappointment of the day.  I’ve always said that you haven’t partied if you don’t end the night pregnant or in tears.  Fortunately, it’s never been the former, and I’ll drink (and cry) to that!

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