put your fingers up my ass, are you deaf?

blah!what a day, what a glorious day to celebrate the inauguration of a wretched existence, the introduction to a post partum human condition and for those not stillborn, the inevitable. a cake, a gift and bit of fire with the reminder that on this special occasion perhaps you can convince others that you’re special and worthy of their regard, or at least sharing a table at which you are the head from which they may consume the dessert in your honour, covet the tokens bestowed and eagerly await their own satanic holiday. age ain’t nothing but a number and a birthday is one, less.

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