Forty-seven years ago today, my Momma pushed me outta her......well, you know....her thingy. And life hasn't been the same since. For her nor anyone who knows me. I've failed many, I've succeeded in pleasing others. I've been a good partner and a terrible husband. All at the same time. I just told my husband over dinner that he's been with me right from the time I was coming out and into a new age for myself. He's been there the whole time. I've met so many new people, experienced more things than I could count, and am planning on keeping it up in the future. I love my life. I love you. All of you. So, today, it's my birthday and I celebrate not only my many years on this earth, but you....each of you -- because you've helped make me who I am. Each of you, in your own way.
Now that the sentimental shittola is out of the way, who wants to spank me? Forty-seven whacks, please. Or you can smear birthday cake batter on me and lick it off if you'd prefer.
Or, you can send cash along -- or just bring the cash with you when you come to paddle my arse. Excuse me, would you please, while I go and huff, and puff, and (hopefully) blow out all of my candles.