I'm gonna get killed for this one

(Updated: Yep, totally busted. Shit.)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's Elvis' birthday. Who cares?

That's right. I just talked smack about the king. Whatcha gonna do 'bout it? I also wear tacky clothes and eat Twinkies soaked in gravy, and ain't nobody ever screamed and/or fainted when I walked on a stage. As for the whole "hip-gyration" thing, clearly you've never seen me drunk.

Anyway, today is someone else's birthday, too. I have two paths in front of me right now; the shiny, pastely, gold-plated road of adoration and the dark, weedy, overgrown path of bitchiness.

Guess which one I'm heading down.

The nice thing about having ex-boyfriends is that sometimes, if you are very careful and very lucky, you get to keep them around long after you've broken up with them in the horrid, teenaged way you did. Keeping them around is nice, because you get someone to giggle about the good ol' days with, someone who knows little things about you that even your very best girlfriends don't, someone who rocks your socks all the time. (In the laughter way, not the adultery way, you pervs.)

You know what makes it even more fun, though? Having a blog and a prideful ex, that's what. See, my ex will never admit to reading this blog, and the precious few comments he's left have been so carefully anonymotized that I had to do a bit of googling before I could figure out who they were even from. He's strange like that. I read his blog and my comments are all, THIS IS FROM MR LADY, THE FIRST GIRL YOU EVER SAW NAKED. His? Hi. This is some random reader. Shhhh.

There is a point here. Someone turns 33 today, and someone else thought she'd flip through some old pictures of him. Because, honestly, what's he going to do about it? Leave me a comment? That would totally be outing himself, and there are things Funny Ol' does do and there are things Funny Ol' doesn't do; outing himself from his cloak of invisiblogity would be in the doesn't category.

This is one of the few pictures of us together, which is odd because we dated for 3 1/2 years and have known each other for 16. In case you're wondering, we are both 19 and he is wearing a sweatshirt with, if I remember correctly, Donald Duck on it. *snicker*This is a picture I cropped out of a group picture in our high school yearbook. I was one of the photographers for the yearbook. Why? To take pictures of him, that's why. I was sorta stalking him in high school. And yes, he totally hated me for it. (I think I made up for it after high school, though.)Every single person I have showed this picture to has said one thing, and one thing only. "Suspenders?"

Be ye not fooled by the suspenders.

There are some things in life that one can do well, very well, even if one wears suspenders, by simply reading a book or two.

That's all I'm saying about that.