Happy birthday to Ben, turning 30 this very day. The first time I ever hung out with Ben, he brought 2 cases of St. Ides 40s over to S's apartment and solidified if not my immediate love and devotion, at least my 23-year old respect.
People, it was a trying ordeal, but I lived through it, and so did Ben.
(In other news, it's 67 degrees out and there are reports of snowflakes. What would be a cooler birthday present than the end of the world? Listen, it’s like Patton Oswalt says: when you get to heaven, at least then you have a very cool story about how you died. Who wants to say "hit by bus" or "heart attack" when you can say you DIED IN THE M-EFFING ARMAGEDDON??!?!!?!) This is my way of saying that I fear weird weather things and consider weather a major predictor of the Apocolypse. Maybe.
Anyways, Ben’s 30. Holy crap! Wish him a HB!
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Thanks (I think, as I assume HB means happy birthday not hepatitis B). Anyhow, it's true. The g'ness can crush a 40 in record time (even if it ultimately means redirecting the party-bound cab back home after only 3 blocks).
I still maintain that our cab never left the parking lot. This 3 blocks bit is nonsense. And if I don't remember it...it didn't happen.
As far as I recall: what cab?
You can quote Patton, but your absence at the HH will not be excused. I'm sure you don't exist.
I find internet faux mystery sexy.
I'm a 475 lb. dude.
Actually, I'm IN YOUR COMPUTER.
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