Happy Birthday Canadian Tuxedo

Happy Birthday, man.

I got you this.

Yeah, it's a baby. I thought you might like it. It's not like the one that we made together. No. I aborted that one. I'm sorry. I just couldn't bear the responsibility of having your child. The fruit of your considerable loins.

I'm sorry.

But we're past that now, yes? After all, here I am, giving you a blog post and a small human being for your birthday. You could do worse that an infant, as gifts go. I could have just written "Happy birthday dude" on your Facebook wall. I'm sure that many people today will do just that. And many of them will be people you never speak to. You may not even know who they are. But because they go on Facebook a lot, they'll see it's your birthday. And they'll take the 7.4 seconds it takes to write on your wall to express how glad they are that you survived another year.

Not me, though. Nope. I went through all the trouble of kidnapping someone else's baby for you. And then I sat him/her (I didn't check, okay?) in this cake in an adorable pose. To be honest, the kid seemed less than thrilled with the whole cake bukkake thing. But I did what I had to. Because I wanted to get you the perfect gift. Something that says: "I love you and I'm proud to have had you around for another year. And also, I'm sorry I aborted your fetus." I hope you like it. If not, I'll just get you another bottle of liquor. But don't share that with the baby. I'm told it's bad for them.

So happy birthday, sir. I hope it's a good one.