HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MR. X!
As a birthday gift to Mr. X, I won’t write yet another column extolling his virtues. He hates when I say good things about him. I used to tell all my friends about his gorgeous baby smooth back and he’d be so embarrassed. Oops, I guess I just told all of you about it, too!!!
But I just want to wish him a Very Happy Bday here because he doesn’t ever want to do anything to celebrate. I know–weird, eh?
So, the deal is, we each do what the other wants for his or her birthday, which manifests itself thusly: for his, we do nothing at all, and for mine, we go all out and pah-ty! Oh yeah.
On three different birthdays, though, (out of the hundred we’ve been together,) I did do something special for him, all of which celebrations have lived on in infamy. Fortunately for him, (but, alas, not for you guys,) I’m too wrapped up in the Olympics to regale you with those stories here and now. So, I guess you’ll just have to wait till next year to be as horrified as he was on each occasion. (Rightfully so on only one of them, though.)
So, Mr. X, if you’re reading this, (which could go either way,) come on out of your headquarters in the house, and claim your birthday smooch. Then, we’ll celebrate the day by doing…absolutely nothing! And that will be just the way you like it.
Happy Birthday, my captive!