The time when I didn’t wear flannel and a ballcap

The latter half of Saturday

See that boy in the front row with the red flannel pants with white writing? His name is Eddie and we share a birth day. (Should I mention his pants say ‘Got gas?’)

For the last couple years I’ve been going to his party because his parents usually serve really tasty food and they’re all fun to be around.

This year the event occurred on our actual birth days and I thought I’d spiff it up a bit from my usual flannel shirt and ballcap. I walk in the door and there’s a whole crew sporting my signature style yelling, “Surprise!” Some even threw on suspenders for added lumberjackian flair.

I gave ’em my suspect squint and then they brought out a cake with my name on it.

They got me good.

The shared party was fun as usual. I got a gay coloring book among other goodies, I’ll scan in some choice spreads (pardon the pun) and share. Oh and the cake? I’ve been dreaming about its perfectness every day since.

I’m not related to any of these people, but they treat me like family anyway.

Thank ya.

And another big sloppy gushing hat tip to all the calls, comments, notes, cards and calls. As one of the darkest days of the year, it turned out to be mighty bright.

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