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Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Friday, February 18, 2005

Sandy, Oh, Sandy!

The picture of me on this blog was colorized by my good friend Aaron. He took my black and white headshot and worked magic with it. He's a giver, that Aaron, and today he wants everyone to give his awesome mama some love. I'm happy to join in. I want to say Happy Birthday, Sandy!

Sandy, you have always been there for me. Well, actually, you've never been there for me. But I know you would be there for me if I asked you to be. Your son is always there for me, so I assume you would always be there for me. I mean, he's not always there for me, but he has been there for me before and would probably be there for me if I needed him unless he was being there for someone else.

Sandy, I think the best piece of advice you ever gave me was, "Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, you get paid the same amount at work whether you come into the office drunk or sober, so why not live a little?"

No, wait. That was me talking to myself this morning. Well, I'm sure you would give me great advice like that if I asked you. But since I didn't ask, you didn't tell me your opinion. That's what I like about you, Sandy. You never offer unsolicited advice. You wait until you're asked.

Another thing I like about you, Sandy, is that you have never mailed a bomb to me. Or, if you did, it must have been lost in the mail. But I don't think you've ever mailed a bomb to me. So thanks for that.

I am really happy you were born, Sandy. Because you raised a good son who later contributed to this blog by creatively colorizing my headshot. If it weren't for you, Sandy, this blog would be a much less colorful place.

Sandy, if I could offer some unsolicited advice to you, it would be this. You need to believe in yourself more, Sandy. How do you know that The Rock wouldn't be interested in taking you out for your birthday unless you ask him? And when is the last time you went on a shopping spree and asked the cashier if you could have a ninety-percent discount just because you are cute? And if they say, "No, you can't," and you threaten to dance on top of the counter until they give you your discount, where's the harm in that? You never do stuff like that, Sandy. What are you so afraid of? Being hauled away by security is not so bad. Trust me.

I also really hate that you won't eat the crust on your bread, Sandy. I know it is your birthday, and I hate to bring up the countless little things you do that drive me crazy, but I am only saying this because I love you. If you do not start eating your bread crusts, I'm going to put you inside a deep dark well made of bread crust, and you will have to eat your way out.

Actually, I won't do that to you Sandy. My father used to threaten me with that, and birthdays always remind me of family, so I brought that up because I need therapy. But we're not here to talk about me. I mean, I'm here to talk about me, but you're not here to talk about me. You probably want to see more stuff about you. I like that you don't give unsolicited advice, Sandy, but sometimes you sure are self-absorbed. I mean that in a good way.

So, Sandy, dance on store countertops today, or don't. Eat your bread crust or not. Give advice to people, or don't. Mail me a letter bomb or don't. Actually, just please don't.

What I mean to say is, Happy Birthday EVillMom!

I should totally write greeting cards.

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