Once again, I’ve become older. And once again, I had a disappointing birthday. So, after :::cough cough::: 37 years, I have decided to do some things differently for next year:
Tell Mr. Cookie point blank that I would like a cake. With candles.
Stop being so convincing when I say my birthday means nothing to me. In fact, stop blatantly lying about this. As much as it makes me feel like a 7 year-old, my birthday does mean something to me, and I have decided to admit it.
Knock off all passive agressive bull that requires those around me to read my mind.
Put it in better perspective and stop being such a neanderthal.
Thank you, Kalhoun for wishing me a happy birthday.
It occurs to me that my screen name might suggest I have sat on or frequently sit on cookies. In fact, it is meant to mean that I am a squished cookie…the big butt of life has sat on me.
Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Sat on Cookie . Happy Birthday to you! And there aren’t any trick candles on this cake. And you too, Max_Castle.