happy birthday, nuala!

ducky, today you turn old. not just older, but old. how old are you now? 24? like the rest of us old fuckers. soon you’ll be thirty. (in 6 years. that was helpful in case you’re so old you can no longer do math in your head. i don’t know why this kind and considerate birthday post has suddenly turned deranged and vicious. and also i don’t know who i am to talk since i’m closer to being 25 than you by quite a bit. holy crap. 25. that’s so old.)

we’ve known one another since 9th grade. that’s not quite half our ages, but it’s close. (michele- stop talking about being old.)

i kind of knew you in middle school too though since when i would call kristen’s house during girl scout meetings you were inevitably there and hence, a presence, albeit remotely, in my life. it all went downhill from there though. or uphill. since soon we will be over the hill (16 years).

i made an effort to go thru my europe journals and my europe photo albums for potentially embarrassing photos or captions about you. but then i started looking at my circus people book and realized it had all been done before. so then i started going thru my old emails to see what you had to say for yourself. but nothing there was quite right either. although once in answer to the question, “do you eat the stems of broccoli?” you answered, “sure if it’s there” which i feel is an adequate summation of your entire life and our friendship. because you will always eat the gross vegetables that i must fling from my plate in disgust. it’s good to have friends.

so, sources exhausted, i sat down to write this dedicatory post with no inspiration other than my love for you. that quickly deteriorated into sarcasm and abuse against old people. obviously i am a flawed individual. but you’re not. you’re a duck, cause you’re not a duck at all. and that is a-ok.

in the immortal words of some french carnies, “french kiss? strip tease?” i’m coming down in 3 days and i am going to be french, fraggling, and demanding. so prepare. limber that tongue and practice your moves. i’m pretty sure at least that I can beat YOU at pool.

hey, i love you ducks. and i can’t wait to see you!

love,

mupps

p.s. that comic has nothing to do with you. if you were ice cream, i would never hit you with a baseball bat. because i love ice cream just like i love you.