A Birthday Tribute to the Hills of Hottywood

Ladies and gentlemen!  Guys and gals!  Kats, kittens, dawgs, and bitches!  I greet you in the name of all things coated with vegetable oil and all-purpose flour!  Today we celebrate a very special day.  No, I’m not referring to the anniversary of the Alabama law that states it is illegal to sell peanuts in Lee County after sundown on Wednesdays; or the Oregon law that dictates canned corn is not to be used as bait for fishing.  Though, in my opinion, those days are worth celebrating.  Today we honor and celebrate the birth of Hottywood!  

Today, as I blow out a flattering number of trick candles, eat mounds of chocolate cake and pass gas profusely from all the lactose-induced vanilla bean ice cream I can eat, I invite you to unbuckle those horrible skinny jeans, kick off your white socks and sandals, and put your table manners to the side as we feast at a table of endless chicken wings and sesame seed buns! 

On this cold day of February, all should be reminded and some even encouraged that there are many things that we can all get away with in the name of Hottywood, simply because I said so.  And I don’t give a damn who doesn’t like it.  You don’t even have to thank me for this encouragement because some of you reserved tykes have probably been waiting for the right opportunities [anyway] to: 

  • Tell your neighbors to shove their loud stereo sets up their ass;
  • Suggest to your coworkers that they email themselves straight to hell;
  • Lead that one self-absorbed person to the middle of a bullfighting coliseum after coloring their body w/ permanent red magic marker;
  • Dip your enemy’s underwear in raw hamburger meat and unleash a pack of hungry dogs on them;
  • Turn off all the hot water in your apartment complex at the break of dawn so people’s annoying shower singing can actually be what it sounds like – screaming; or
  • Put baby snapping turtles inside your landlord’s mailbox. 

It’s probably not ethical for me to give you ideas on how to get back at all those folks who forgot your birthday, have done you wrong, or even the clods that you simply don’t like.  But as I’ve stated before, today is a very special day and the only rule that applies is that I make the rules.  So you can do whatever the hell you damn well please in the name of humor, emotionless love and my birthday!    

May the rest of your day be filled with chicken wings, stripper poles, and restraining orders.  Not necessarily in that order.  

…oh, and if you don’t think you have the balls to be bad, relish in the thought that 90% of any effort is getting started!  Follow my lead and you just might learn something.  Happy birthday to me from me!  

Luv ya, babies.

________________________________________________________

Quote of the week:  “Birthdays are nature’s way of telling us to eat more cake.”

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