Oh, Mr. Lady, How I Do Love Thee

Oh, Mr. Lady. It's your BIRTHDAY. Happy 21st birthday, dude!

I went out for my birthday on Saturday night, where my friend and I specially went to Mr. Lady's bar so that she could serve me unhealthy amounts of whisky and mystery shots that I believe were called a shillelagh and definitely had bailey's in them. Naturally, being Irish, the whisky made me kind of weepy, and I rambled on and on about how much I love Mr. Lady (oh, and also mother Ireland, but that goes without saying). Because today is her birthday, I want to write an extremely touching little post about how this person has blessed my life and how absolutely lucky I am to know her. I already wrote a rough draft that I scribbled on a cocktail napkin on Saturday night and left for her at her bar. Unfortunately, however, I can't quite tell you what it said, as I wrote it one glass of whisky past the "I LOVE YOU, MAN" phase of the night.

So, starting over, I must tell you that she had a red datsun called Betsy, inadvertently killed about 435 pet hamsters by the time she was 18, and really had a thing for Dr. Pepper and Hawaiian pizza while in high school. She also has the most infectious laugh of all time, and I remember at that time in my life (15 years old or so) really needing to learn how to laugh with her, because I hadn't known joy and laughter like that, at least with my school friends. I remember driving around our home town together spilling our guts to each other, telling each other things I'm fairly confident that neither of us have told anyone else, ever.

She also has this uncanny knack of getting pregnant every time I leave town or lose touch with her for a few months. So, I move back from Ireland the first time almost 9 years ago. I call her to see she'd been up to and she replies, "Having a baby." The second time I come home from Ireland, I call her to tell her that this time I am pregnant. Not to be outdone, girlfriend replies, "Um, me too." Dammit. With her most recent pregnancy, we'd just spaced each other out for about a year, but sure enough, I call her up and ask her how's she's been, and she replies, AGAIN, "I'm pregnant." I've made assurances to her and to her husband that I will never fall out of touch with her ever again.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Lady. You know how much I love you. I'm mushed out, but just know that I admire everything about you, that I marvel in the triumph that is the script of your life. I celebrate today! Much yud!!!