...well, it's my birthday too, yeah. In a couple of weeks. But please, feel free to shower me with money any time.
And Happy Birthday to all of you other April babies that come here! I was astounded at how many Aries readers I actually get last time I took a survey.
I actually forgot how old I was, and had to bring up MS Calculator to do the math. Fuck, I'm gonna be 53. And damn, I look good. I go to Classmates.com and look at the people I graduated with from high school, and dayum, they look ate up. I mean, wretched. Maybe not having much in the way of emotions keeps you from getting wrinkles.
And most of the guys are all fat now, too. I'd be afraid to go to a reunion and meet up with some of the chicks who were absolute goddesses when I fucked them, and see them as wrinkled, sagging hag-bags.
I've told you about the time the wife and I went into a bar, we just recently married, and the manager/bartender was this absolute gorgeous goddess I had dated in high school and for a while after. I mean it, when she dropped her clothes in a pile and stood before you naked, you would just fire off an airburst and have to wobble over and sit down on the bed.
Well, I graduated in '73, and this was 1990, and she still looked like she had just come down from Heaven to bless us with her presence, and she saw me, and came floating over and gave me a big hug and a smooch, and I looked at the wife, and saw murder incarnate.
Now, the wife was younger than her, and prettier, and in absolute animal shape, and when their eyes locked I heard low growling, and their hair go up on their backs. It is not often I am flummoxed, and at a complete loss for words, but this was one of those times. So I introduced them, and we had a snifter of cognac, and we left. Nobody died.
And the wife and I never went back in there again.