Happy 30th, ScottyBoy . . .

Looks to be your last, though. Ma and Pa put together a little shin-dig, complete with grillables and barley pops for the grill-billies, cake and ice cream and an invite for anyone you wanted to bring along. Pop even waited around most of Saturday for you to get home from your job to give you a ride up, but claiming fatigue, you couldn't be bothered. You said that you had a couple of things to do on Sunday but called when the washing machine was backed-up. Was that what was so important to miss celebrating you birthday with your family? Your laundry?

The truth is, this has become a rather obvious pattern with you where you favor your friends over your family, and it's the same every year. It's kinda fucked up. Well, just so you know, we had fun (Ma and Pops and I); we sang Happy Birthday, I blew out the candles on your cake and made a wish on your B½ . . . any guess what that wish was, ScottyBoy?