Today, almost exactly 26 years ago, I was born.
It was a tidy, well orchestrated affair. My mother was admitted to hospital near midday and at something like 11.50 in the morning they sliced her open and plucked me, the fruit of her womb, out from my hiding place.
I don’t remember it, but from what I’ve seen in movies and on TV, I’m sure I screamed bloody murder.
My mom says we were going through a drought at that time, they’d started imposing water restrictions and everything was dry and yellow, but that night a huge storm broke while she held me in her arms and marvelled at the tiny creature she had created.
Twenty-six years later I’m sitting in my car, killing time before a meeting out by Northriding, but overhead those same clouds are looming, dark and ominous and I’d bet my bottom dollar there’s a storm comin’ and when it hits, it’s gonna hit hard.
I need to buy cake, if I arrive at the office without it everyone’s gonna think I’m a total douche. If I can just get that one thing right everyone will love me.
Later J-Rab’s gonna give me my presents, fuck yeah! And then – sexy time!
So if you stumble on this post during the course of the day and would like to give me presents also, I’m accepting cold hard cash. Email me so I can first screen you and make sure you’re not some dodgey Nigerian, then is I’m satisfied nothing fishy’s going on, I’ll give you my banking details and we can do an EFT transaction.
Peace out party people!
-ST
