Apologies for not posting yesterday, dears. I was recovering from the wonderfulness that was my birthday weekend. The worst part about birthdays is that they end and then you're back to just being 29 (or 17 or 68) for another 364 days without anyone--you included--giving a shit.
Sigh.
So it goes.
So it goes.
This year, however, my birthday weekend is trickling into this upcoming weekend (lucky, lucky, lucky me...the fun doesn't end!) with an event so high-intensity that I have to break it down into four syllables for you: KA-RA-O-KE. Yes, kittens, there is a Santa Claus and my spectacular friends are coming together to sing their hearts out for yours truly.
I've already put in a request with MP: he must serenade me with a moving (and appropriate) song of his choosing. While I prefer that he choose from the vast offerings of Canadian superstars like Bryan Adams, Shania Twain, and Celine Dion, he, of course, being the punk at heart that he is, politely refuses. He is open to suggestions from readers--at least I think he is.
Well, that's the word, boys and girls. More TK soon.
Kisses.
2 comments:
wild thing...da na da da da...you make my heart sing....da na da da da....you make everything....GROOOOOOOOOOVY.
there you go MP.
I take it that the dulcet tones of MP crooning classic Sir Mix-A-Lot lyrics would not meet to your approval?
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