So I probably don't need to tell you this but today is my sixth (week) birthday. These weeks are just flying by. It seems like just yesterday I was living in this tiny, pitch black swimming pool — a heated pool! — and everyone sounded like they were talking with socks on their heads. Also sometimes I was right-side up, and other times I was upside down. A couple of times I was even sideways. That was weird. And now here I am, as old as 42 generations of Mayflies and way older than the administration of David Cameron.
I don't want to leap to conclusions but I think maybe my sixth (week) birthday is an official national holiday and there's no mail delivery because I didn't get any gifts in the mail. There's always next week.
Happy birthday to me!
Hey Charlie, what is up with your dad's sleeveless shirts? Maybe you want to buy him a subscription to GQ for Father's Day?
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