Jill sent me a package from Ireland for my birthday, but she had her hunk-a-licious husband write on the package "Do not open until 15th April!!!!"
DAMMIT!
And the real bitch is that she *knows* what she's doing to me by asking me to wait. We've known each other for 17 years - this is outta control.
I felt it up, though, and I'm guessing it's a cd, which rocks because Jill has the best taste in music next to me, of course! Oh goodness, sometimes I'm just so freaking funny! Seriously, though, she's got it going on. Of course, I'm kiping all her music anyway, but handpicked goodies always sound better, you dig?
Or I suppose it could be a bomb? Unlikely. I mean, I've had multiple Irish Car Bombs in my day and this doesn't look or smell like anything I've ever experienced.
Could it be a puppy?
World peace? (remember that? 8th grade, baby!)
Surely it's not ganja.
Sex toys? Nah, they'd never have made it here ....
A new truck?
A monkey?
I'm guessing some sort of media device.
I love birthdays. Can you tell?
Thanks, Jill. Hope you survive the invasion of the 'rents and I'll try to survive kissing my 20s good-bye. It's already easier having you in my corner.
Cheers!
1 comment:
Ok beeyotch. Let's do some negotiation then. You can open it FIRST THING TOMORROW MORNING (friday) [I won't be around to check your reaction on saturday anyway so it won't be half as fun], IF on the one condition that: if it IS Mark Lanegan, that you let him go on a weekly rotation in my closet too.
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