23 years ago right about now, a doctor was telling my mom, “You know, if this child doesn’t come out soon, we may have to perform a Caesarean.”
My mother, who had been experiencing the Joy and Wonder of Childbirth for about 21 hours at that point, grabbed him by his tie, and pulled him very close to her face to tell him something:
“I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO PULL IT OUT OF MY EAR, GET THIS FUCKING THING OUT!”
And some people wonder where I get it from.
22 was a good year, way better than 21. No surgeries (woo!), a great new job, a fun new state (even if I do live under the Governator), and a lot of cool people, new and old. I couldn’t have asked for a better year.
Well, I could have, I just probably wouldn’t have gotten one.
I hope things continue to go as well this year (knock on wood). Thanks to everyone who’s helped me out, listened to me whine, or gone out partying with me. Y’all fucking rock.
And now, I’m going to go eat some cake.