Go shorty, it's your birthday, we gonna party like it's your birthday

It really is my birthday today, as well as the one year anniversary of this blog.

It's been a pretty good year. I bought my condo. The Red Sox won the World Series. I got some haircuts. Can't ask for much more than that.

Kind of a lousy birthday though. I got my first cold of the winter, so I stumbled through work and didn't go visit anyone because I didn't want to spread my germs. Fun.

Birthdays don't mean a lot anymore. When you were a kid, birthdays were awesome because you got presents and got to eat cake. I didn't realize it was my birthday today until I was stopped at a red light driving to work. Then it was like "Oh yeah, it's my birthday."

Nothing much else to add. I found out I'm hosting Easter this Sunday, which should be fun. I should be done the Cali diary before 2007. And MVP baseball is a really fun game. Now, here are some words on the band Stryper I found at Pitchfork.

"Christian metal: What's the fuckin' point? I mean the whole reason we listened to metal was because it wasn't acceptable and it wasn't approved of by our parents and teachers and what ever other authority figure there was to rebel against. I listened to Mötley Crüe because I wanted to create a schism between my parents and I. It's not like I really wished my parents could have appreciated "Shout at the Devil" so that we could have shared it together. I always felt really sorry for the kids who had to resort to Stryper because their parents were too strict. I'd hate to see where those kids are now. They're probably all dentists."

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