It’s my birthday, yo.
Ordinarily, I’d be rocking back and forth in an extended foetal, like Andy Dick routinely on a Friday night; but I’m feeling pret-ty goood (to be said like Jon Lovitz). I feel like doing a jaunty Irish jig whilst wearing a tutu made entirely from birthday cards.
Instead, I’m gonna see a grandiose production of Mary Poppins; then get my pink wig on and go dancing. Yeah, baby! No doubt, I’ll have a humiliating tale to recount upon rising tomorrow; looking like Melvin Udall in drag – boobs and wig askew.
Gay Prince would be so proud.
“Sell crazy some place else, we’re all stocked up here.”