Here's what I remember about your birthday. In September 1970-do the freaking math will you!........ You were born in a Catholic hospital in St. Cloud with nuns in attendance. Mom was in labor for over 24 hours and she passed out between labor pains. At one point she told the cute little red-headed nurse she wanted to go home. The nurse looked at me and said, "Do you want to take her home Mr. Lindahl?" I didn't. You finally popped out in your own good time and all was well except we missed some insurance deadline for coverage by an hour or two so the good old nuns changed the dates of your birth to get us the coverage we needed. You ended up costing us not much. Whew! You may have been born on the 30th of September but it was in 1970 NOT 1969. Sometimes you acted like a little bastard but you actually are not one. Happy birthday and legit or not, I love you! Dad
UUUUUUMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!! TODAY is my actual birthday??? I'm sure mom appreciated that you found the red-headed nun to be so attractive while she was busy passing out between contractions while bringing me into the world. The nuns committed insurance fraud??? (I always knew nuns weren't as saintly as they pretend to be; "I'm married to Jesus, the savior, who are you married to? I like older men. I'm so perfect! Tee hee!")
So today is my birthday. September 30. OMG.
UPDATE on my birthday forgiveness of the girl who let my bunny out when I was seven; I mean, the day before I turned seven: Not gonna happen. I tried. It was too hard. I really do enjoy carrying that grudge. It's a totally legitimate grudge to carry. I'm gonna keep it. Sorry, Asshole, you're still on my shit list. I won't wish you paralyzed or dead, but I will wish you bored and perpetually annoyed. (Oh, and I also will use my magic mind powers to wish that at least once a year you drop (and break) a bottle of oil or a can of paint in your house. And that it splatters under the fridge.)
|HA HA HA HA!|