I don't know what to get you for your birthday yet, so I am dedicating this blog posting to you, ya old bag!
Thank you for enrolling me in gymnastics at age 4. I'm bendy. For the Budweiser you let me drink at age 5. See, you started it. For dancing with me at the pub in Brookhaven to "You Are So Beautiful to Me". Duh. For sending me away for a week with the white people who made me eat runny eggs &b take cold showers while Mom was giving birth to the Little Prince. I am not bitter. For never letting me hang out on the other side of Yaphank. For taking me rowboating everyday on Yaphank Lake and telling mom she was too fat and would sink the boat so she couldn't come with us. I dont know where i get it from. For always giving me money when I need it. Put it on my tab. For holding my hand when I busted my chin wide open and had to get stitches when I was 4 at Aunt Suzies. Never wear socks on a newly waxed floor. For installing a pull up bar and making me practice everyday so I could get the Physical Fitness award in gym, President style. For every x-ray you and mom had to take me to because I kept falling out of trees, off roofs, and down stairs. I was unstoppable. For being Irish. Too many reasons to list for that. For marrying mom so I'd be neither all white nor all Flip. Are you even married to her? For giving me my curls. I never have to do my hair. For holding my hand once again when that dog mauled my face off at age 9 and I laid there for hours while the 6 plastic surgeons tried to figure out how to fix me. Only took ten years. For taking that prozac. God knows you needed it. For being a wonderful grandfather to my daughters who love you so much. Sydney is just like you, a Kracken. For not dying in March and showing me I had more strength than I thought I ever had. Tear. For all the big and little things you've done for me over the past 40 years that I didn't mention here, I love you Dad. Mom stop fucking crying...