birthday-ing.
My mother's birthday is in three days. No problem, right? Hallmark addict that I am, I always have a few dozen cards on hand, suitable for all occasions. (Valentine's Day for girlfriends? Check. Christmas card for alcoholics? Check. More birthday cards than Strom Thurmond saw in his lifetime? Check.) Pop a card in the mail tomorrow, claim Texas-lag in the rare case that it's late, all is good.
Problem: It seems all of my remaining "birthday" cards are MikWrights with thinly veiled gay subtext (card feat. sailor, text reading: "if you think i'm gonna spend another six months cooped up with a bunch of half-naked, sweat-drenched, foul-mouthed strangers...you're right!"), dysfunctional families ("my summer vacation was fun. we went to the washington monument. my sister got cramps. my brother lost his retainer. mom cried alot. dad took us to an orphanage."), or both ("clark was handsome. no he was pretty. with that porcelain skin and kind nature and a flair for gourmet cooking; well, we all said a silent prayer for marlene").
Don't tell me those aren't birthday cards, either. They just *scream* celebration, don't they? Unfortunately, they also scream Stroke! for my conservative and (mostly) humorless mother.
So. Yes. Birthday card. For my mother.
I think this means I have to go shopping again.
Problem: It seems all of my remaining "birthday" cards are MikWrights with thinly veiled gay subtext (card feat. sailor, text reading: "if you think i'm gonna spend another six months cooped up with a bunch of half-naked, sweat-drenched, foul-mouthed strangers...you're right!"), dysfunctional families ("my summer vacation was fun. we went to the washington monument. my sister got cramps. my brother lost his retainer. mom cried alot. dad took us to an orphanage."), or both ("clark was handsome. no he was pretty. with that porcelain skin and kind nature and a flair for gourmet cooking; well, we all said a silent prayer for marlene").
Don't tell me those aren't birthday cards, either. They just *scream* celebration, don't they? Unfortunately, they also scream Stroke! for my conservative and (mostly) humorless mother.
So. Yes. Birthday card. For my mother.
I think this means I have to go shopping again.