In celebration of my birth-week, here is an adaptation of an oldie but a goodie:
In the first gift of birthday, Angel sent to me: a meditation CD.
In the second gift of birthday, little S sent to me: two coffee cups, and a meditation CD.
In the third hour of birthday, cell phone rang to me: three messages, two coffee cups, and I was meditation needy.
In the fourth gift of birthday, a pharmacist gave to me: four small muffins, three messages, two espresso shots, and I was meditation needy.
In the fifth act of birthday, New Girl threw in the air for me: fiiiiiive pounds confetti, four small muffins, three texting lines, two espresso shots, and meditation on my knees.
In the sixth hour of birthday, my mother woke me with: a six A.M. phone call, fiiiiiiiive pounds confetti, four tasty bakes, three texting lines, two sugar packs, and meditation on my knees.
In the seventh sin of birthday, my friends all bought for me: seven shots a liquor, a six A.M. phone call, fiiiiiiive white little lies, four tasty bakes, three cell phone buzzes, two sugar packs, and a re-alignment of my chi.
In the eighth joke of birthday, Muscle Calves should a seen: eight balloons a poppin', seven shots a liquor, a six o'clock wake up, fiiiiiive white little lies, four muffin films, three cell phone buzzes, two ounces cream, and a re-alignment of my chi.
In the ninth gift of birthday The mail girl gave to me: nine ounces chocolate, eight balloons a poppin', seven kamikazes, a six o'clock wake up, fiiiiiive paper packages, four muffin films, three happy birthdays, two ounces cream, and something elementary.
In the tenth act of birthday, the doctors stole from me: ten low-fat cookies, nine ounces chocolate, eight blow-up dolls, seven kamikazes, a "six is too early", fiiiiiive paper packages, four gooey treats, three happy birthdays, two sniffs of coffee, and something elementary.
In the eleventh hour of birthday, I should've given me: eleven work days off, ten low-fat cookies, nine chocolate chips, eight blow-up dolls, seven scooby snacks, a "six is too early", fiiiiiive present filled bags, four gooey treats, three "we love BP", two sniffs of coffee, and one super happy BP.
In the twelfth happy birthday, what I wished for me: twelve smiling faces, eleven work days off, ten reimbursements, nine chocolate chips, eight batteries, seven scooby snacks, six more massages, fiiiiiive present filled bags, four brand new tires, three "we love BP", two less shots of coffee, and one super happy BP.
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