Today is Auntie Ed’s birthday. He’s older than me, but not much. I had no idea what to get him—besides new shoes to replace the ones my sister stole from him—so I asked Google what Ed wants. Here’s what I found:
Ed wants...
- bad drivers ripped off the road
- your money
- to know when his library books are due
- to focus more on his painting, and do less tattooing
- to know why Northwest Airlines attendants get testy when you don't have correct change for a cocktail
- me to use all of my free time to exercise (why should *I* have to suffer just because it’s your birthday?)
- to know why he wants to kill people
- everyone to check out a rap video about hating kittens
- to know how much you make
- to marry his stalker
- a superhero team based on reptiles and amphibians
- to fly
- to be a Blondie girl
- a do-over
- naked customers
- his son to know he finally put the pool in the backyard
- your phone number again (stupid iPhone can’t remember anything)
- to have one Christian church in every post office area
- to bring his bow and arrows
- to return to the street
- to go to Chuck E. Cheese (With your bow and arrows? Please?)
- action, now
- to crush Dennis with a toast at the engagement party
- to keep your work and you looking good—with protective coverings
- to be a macroeconomic time-series econometrician, and use the patterns of previous housing- and consumer-driven recessions to analyze what is going on
- a midnight foot worship
- to make your drinking a fuller experience for you
- to know: “Are the treatments for hair loss expensive?”
You can expect all of these in the mail soon(ish). Have a great day, Ed!
Obviously Ed needs shot, or medications - stat! Happy Birthday Ed!
ReplyDeleteSuch silliness . . . but #s 2 and 7 are eerily right-on. And the shoes of course. Those were some great shoes, and I'm not going anywhere that has an official green-and-reflective highway sign announcing the exit for the Focus on the Family Welcome/Hate Maximization Center. I have had so much family this week as it is . . . and we used to be such nice people . . .
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