I know, I know. This ALSO isn't the previously promised, upcoming cow post that everyone's been waiting for. Or doesn't care about. Semantics! But this one's been languishing in the queue for a while and I thought now would be the perfect time to publish it since today is the birthday of this blog's favorite medical professional and steadfast defender of our country, Desert Nurse! (That's right: He's a nurse AND a soldier and blah blah, big deal. WHAT A SHOWOFF. I can do a triple-double axel combo jump. While blindfolded. And balancing a stack of books on my head. How about THAT? Okay, fine. I actually can't. But that isn't the point. SHOWOFF.) Anyway. Today, Desert Nurse –– or "Mike" as some of you may know him, except for those of you who know him as something along the lines of "Jerkface" (I'm assuming) –– is turning 32335102 OH WHATEVER and to whom better to dedicate this post about becoming ancient than someone who is experiencing this exact phenomenon as we speak?
So, Happy Birthday, dude. You don't look a day over...well, you don't look nearly as good as I do. Let's just put it that way.
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Recently (HAHA!) Maureen and I met for dinner at our favorite local Mexican joint so we could catch up on each other's weeks and be there to support one another through the slightly rough patches we'd each been having. Because friendship is like a flower (or something...whatever...flowers die I think??) and a joy shared is a joy doubled and a burden shared is a burden cut in half and boring boring what is taking the waiter so long to bring us our damn tequila shots?? We're pissyparched.
Anyway, at one point we got to talking about the horrendous state of the economy as in we are totally broke because this stupid restaurant won't let us pay the bill with a portion of Lesley's $5,976 Starbucks card which no, I totally do not get either, when –– still discussing how broke we are –– Maureen pulls out her $46 (approximately) tube of lipstick to show me how she's been using her $27 lip brush to scrape the dregs out of the bottom of the tube so as to avoid buying a replacement as long as humanly possible. This is when I noticed that maybe we coincidentally had the exact same tube of lipstick and then THIS CRAP HAPPENED (you know...kinda):
Me: Hey! I think I have that same lipstick! Is that Clinique?
Mo (squinting): I think so.
Me: What color is it?
Mo: I don't know. I can't really read it.
Me: Here. Hold it up to the candle. (Because we eat out in only the most romantic, candlelit restaurants. Because otherwise I'd totally get what is known as zero action whatsoever.) How about now?
Mo: Um...no. Not really. You?
Me (squinting): Hold on...nope. I still can't either. Hold it closer.
Mo: How's this?
Me: No. Closer.
Mo: Dude. Any closer and my hand's going up in flames.
Me: Oh! Here: Try my cell phone.
Mo (squinting): Uh....sorta.
Me: So what's the color?
Mo: I can see there's type there but I can't read it. WHO IN THE HELL COULD READ TYPE THIS SMALL? It's like they're trying to mess with us. What a$$hol...
Me: Hold up. Is that even a lipstick?
Mo (squinting): What?? Of course it's a lipstick. What am I? A moro...Oh. It's my pen, isn't it?
Me: I have no idea.
THE HOBBLY, BEN GAY-SCENTED END.
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P.S to Mike: Because nothing says, "I'm celebrating the wonder of you on your birthday!" like a really crappy crafty blog post. And did anyone else do anything this thoughtful for you? Exactly: No, they did not. You're welcome.
(Click on the image to go to Scotchland and visit Mr. Farty's blog!)
For The Four-Leggers
Fine purveyors of Moses The Cat and now also Gus The Cat!
You read. You comment. YOU MAKE ME LOVE YOU
(I totally ripped off this "quoting comments" idea from Mr. Farty. Because ripping off is the sincerest form of flattery.)
Bossy: "One cannot Photoshop enough hats, in Bossy's humble opinion."
Buzz "Reading your blog has, in my mind, you sounding like a 19 year old who's had twelve gallons of sugar and is talking to her best friend on the phone at 5am on day three of a "how long can I stay awake" drive. Really. It's a compliment, though."
Chris: "I'm pretty sure I'm ALMOST drunk (but not quite)."
Debra: "I am so honored to be added to the Cast. It's like seeing your name in lights on Broadway...or on the wall of the Post Office."
dsbs42 "Because, if this blog has taught me anything, it's that animal waste is a great topic for a post."
Issa: "What I love about coming here, is that it takes me five minutes to read through your post and fifteen to find the comments box in all of your tags."
Laurie: "The toilets in my husband's building did start exploding one day...no one was hurt or turned into a zombie."
Lisa: "I am confused. Are you saying that someone is going to whip the boner to stimulate his package?"
Maggie "I totally hate you and your blog. But only in bizarro opposite land."
mayopie "I didn't even know they had boob scientists. I really should have applied myself more."
Mo: "I want that mug, damn it. Why can't I order it? Your customer service sucks around here."
Mr. Farty: "Sorry I'm late here, I was reading the Bloggess instead."
Ryan: "Although weird, difficult to follow and easy to lose track of, I still can't stop reading your posts. It's like watching a very, very slow motion car crash."
Steph "I vote for microfiche solely because it's fun to say. And because it'll confuse my children what with them being all used to Google and whatnot. Basically, I want to be able to kick their asses at research. Whippersnappers."
The Bloggess "I would so vote for you for best host if you would pour me some damn booze already."
XUP: "This blog is always like a happy mushroom trip. I always need a big helping of carbs afterwards to help me come down."