Happy Birthday To Me

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, it's Elvis Day! And this is a special milestone in my Elvisness. Why is that, you ask? Sweet Jesus, I'm 30 now. How the hell did I make it this far? I've survived a flood, a minor earthquake and 3 years in the service of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second and came out of it all smelling like roses.

I guess a few thank yous are in order. First of all, I'd like to thank myself. Without me, none of this would have been possible. Secondly, I'd like to thank my parents for conceiving me and not drowning me like a sack of unwanted kittens. Third, I'd like to thank my brother for believing me when I screamed "I can't breathe!" while he was trying to smother me with a pillow when we were children. And last and most certainly not least, I'd like to thank my friends far and wide who are more than willing to get blind drunk on a wednesday night just for something to do.

And now begins the long and slow slide into decrepitude. There's nothing left to do except take naps and wait patiently for death. So who's up for one last triumphant night of drunken abandon? Come on down to the Soho Pub on Davie St in the West End of Vancouver tonight and have a few beers with me. I'll be there, drunker than 10 sailors on shore leave.