I was going to make a wish for you on your birthday. And it came and went and I must admit I forgot. Sorry. That's ok though, because from what I understand, Britney didn't forget. HEHEHE Gives me new meaning for the phrase, "Only on your birthday." AHEM.
Anyway, so it's Valentine's Day. And I wouldn't have remembered to make a wish for you now, except Livi needs updates, and she's all over my back about it. Called me all kinds of horrible names too, can you imagine? So I'm thinking of you now. Truth be told, can't help myself anyway. I'm embarrased to admit that I actually think of you alot more these days, mostly because of a few random keywords: Rolling Stone. Veins. Waistline. So here instead of a wish, I'm gonna make you a WHOLE DAY WISH...
You will climb out of bed to find that your mother has laid out your clothing and hair brush/accessories and set your home cooked breakfast on a tray. Yes I know that this is an everyday thing, but it can't all be one big wish. I'm not a Genie (in a bottle babay). AHEM.
Anyway, after a shower, Trace will come over to play a few videogames and he will promise to spare you further humiliation at the hands of his (receding) hairstylist. He also swears that he had an old priest and a young priest come in and exorcise his hyperactive possessed bedazzler. Your personal stylist shall come to you, admit his/her sin of trying to make you look retarded, and pay penance by going public with their statement, and refunding you all monies spent for your wardrobe.
Alyssa Milano will stop by, and put down her Nobel Peace Prize, Poet Lauriat Award, and Mother Theresa Diplomas long enough to write you a FAT check for Challenge For The Children. She will also write you a check at twice the original amount of the first for The Justin Timberlake Foundation specifically. Then she will hand you the deeds to her homes, titles to her cars, write you another check and tell you to contribute it all anonymously to Challenge, just before she picks up her awards and moves to Africa to teach underpriveledged children from The Book Of Shadows.
The doorbell rings, and you will answer it to find Jenna Dewan. She's become tired of warding off the inescapable rumors, and would like to know if you're willing to have a quick threesome with her and Janet while Nelly Furtado washes and waxes the Benz.
While Mommy Crunkness does your laundry and cleans your toilet (but not with your laundry), Pharrell will come barreling in dragging Britney by the ear. You will all sit and stare while Brit has a breakdown, confessing that the fling with Wade was only a publicity stunt to boost her album sales and end Justin fan death threats. She will comfort you greatly when you learn that the whole thing has made her suicidal, she has just MOWED WADE DOWN with her pretty little car, and is on her way to the hills of Scotland on the run from the law. You will never again be plagued with her face every time you turn around.
After washing her hands thoroughly with Mean Green and an S.O.S. Pad, Mom has made you lunch while you show Britney to the door. After eating, you will turn on the t.v. to discover that Marijuana has been officially legalized. You, Pharrel, and Mommy Crunkness light up a quick one before your mother goes to make your dinner. Nelly smells that joint from three thousand miles away, and is standing at your door before you finish passing the first round. He carries with him 2 cases of beer, Mom's favorite plastic party cups, and four pairs of baby blue and white Louis Vuitton Air Force Ones in your size. Michael Jordan shows up with his notorious game ball and he's had it gold plated especially for you. You all sit down to a dinner that your Mom gave up cooking and called out delivery for.
JC called to say that he cut his hair, ate some pasta, and wants to come write for you, while Lance has given up the space program in favor of becoming the "MR. JT" Fan Club President. Chris is working on a Fu-Man line devoted to "Cry Me A River" which will feature wild water patterns, broken glass, and women in steamy shower stalls. Joey has promised today that he will no longer sell Kelly the line about the hoochies on the busses being yours.
After a few more joints, and some beer to wash it down with, you will finally stumble to your bed and switch on the giant t.v. You will lose yourself in a JRAT trance with the mirror above your bed, until finally being snapped back to reality by a news report. Seems that in several mysterious alcohol poisoning deaths, the world has lost Eminem, Nick Carter, Lou Perlman, 1500 U.S. reporters, and the entire company that made that *NSYNC lip balm. A final call of the day reveals the secret that J-Lo wants to sign her fortune over to you AND have your babies for as long as you deem her worthy.
Sweet dreams, and Happy Valentines Day.
With all my love and lust I swear, (unless you're Orlando Bloom, then I'm all yours babay!)
P.S. You seem to have forgotten that you are candy in a beater. So in addition to the rest of this wishlist, I made a private wish that all your shirts be replaced with the aforementioned hottie gear as soon as you put them on. So don't think you're losing your mind, it's my fault.
