Hey, hotstuff. I have to continue this unending process of moving today, plus spend a few minutes yanking my hair out over the JuC Swap Story, so you know I won't have time to make it to your party.
But you know, Happy Birthday anyway, you old thing. 29!! Impossible. That's just crazy. I hope you have enough energy left in you to party like a quasi-indy slightly conflicted popstar, and that all your best friends give you blowjobs as presents. It's what I'd want. Every year I think to myself, self, if you were a quasi-indy slightly conflicted popstar, wouldn't you want a bunch of blowjobs for your birthday? And the answer is always yes. But I digress.
I'm sorry about the SHEER HELL you're going to get from Chris this year, your last year of being twenty-something, but let him give you the sloppiest drunk-ass blowjob of all, okay? Because he'll always be older than you. Muahaha. Be sure to remind him of that a lot, while you can still speak.
Anyhow, though, thanks for everything. I'd go on, but... God. Is too much.
p.s. Record? Please? And thank you.