Memo: Don’t Forget Becky’s Birthday on Tuesday

Hey Becky, it’s your birthday. Yay! Congratulations ladyfriend. You are 27 today. Oh my God, you are like so old. Jk. Lol. But,seriously. It’s your day. You call the shots. Whatever you want to do, it willhappen. If you want to go out for a fancy dinner at a restaurant way out of myprice range, and then insist I don’t have to pay, but I do anyway because it’syour freakin’ birthday…I’ll make it happen. I’ve already held your shoes, hair,phone and dignity while you vomited ferociously in the parking lot at Walgreensthat one time. Why wouldn’t I want to make your big day perfect?

So lay it all out sister. Don’t give me this, “I don’t know.It doesn’t matter anyway,” business. I made the mistake of ignoring you onHalloween ’08 when I finally made theexecutive decision to go to Yield instead of Cans. Oh, Becky, you slutty littleastronaut, you. I’ve never seen someone so passive aggressively click away inbroken heels so hard. Won’t do that again. So sister girlfriend, what does yourlittle heart desire on the day you gloriously emerged from your mothers womb?

Dinner? Cool. Drinks? Okay. Princess crowns? Hell to themother flippin’ no! Absolutely not. No. No. NO! I’ll do anything else. Pleasejust don’t make me wear a pink, sparkle crown in public. Everyone is staring atus. I’m too old for this. We could go get matching butterfly tattoos that say“Friends for Eva” or sing Shania Twain at karaoke night. I’ll do anything otherthan the crown. Stop it.

Honey, you are 27 today…27. It’s not cute anymore. In fact,most could make the argument that you look as pathetic as a mom strip teasingher way to Madonna arms, wearing a tube top and chatting on Facebook. You’renot turning 21. Stop clinging. It was really awesome when the girls of KappaKappa Gamma threw you a Playboy party, and I had to wear bunny ears. But we arein public, and you have a law degree. Remember that? You have a condo, a joband a fiancé. That’s big girl stuff.

So Becky, please don’t make me do it. I don’t want to be agrumpy Gus, but there is no way in hell I’m walking around Milwaukee in a fuzzycrown while you scream, “It’s my bucking firthday!”

And come time for your bachelorette party, you best believethere will be no male genitalia anywhere near my hair, chest or mouth. Yabetta’ believe it!