Monday Mimisms ~ I Am Quite Sure It's Not My Birthday. Quite Sure.

I am but a mere child. Still.

Never mind that the Queen's Parade was called off due to some hillbilly tradition in this godforsaken place...something about a watermelon seed spitting contest, I forget....It's bad enough that even Homer forgot my birthday. And after all the fame and fortune I've brought him. Is there no loyalty in this world?

I know it is not my birthday because Queen Elizabeth did not send me a card.
Nor did Prince William or Kate The Middleton invite me to sing at the Royal Nuptials in the Spring. Yet.
I know it is NOT my birthday because my mother hasn't called - and she should know. It has been so long since my birth that even SHE has forgotten.
I know it is not my birthday because I have yet to use hair coloring on my natural brunetteness. Not YET! I refuse to see believe that there are a few odd colored strands of unbrunetteness in my royal head.
The minute I do I will believe it is my birthday.

I know it is not my birthday because my ex- husband HAS called me apparently in a an unsuccessful effort to make up for all the years he didn't. I accepted his happy happy with a smile and a skip down happy divorce lane. Seriously. I tease him constantly about how if he doesn't shape up I'm going to divorce him.

I know it is not my birthday because I have resisted the urge to smack anybody who dares speak my real age. I feel twenty-five years old and that's how it's going to stay thank you very much.
I know it is not my birthday because I can still climb this tree.

And most importantly, I know it is not my birthday because my doe-eyed look still works on police officers.  

Trust me on that one.

What was that, Homer? What did you say? Listen you big-mouth hound dog I am in no mood for your back-talking ways on this blog. Do you hear me?? If you don't have something nice to say don't say anything at all. You think I don't know it was you who left that package of Botox on the porch this morning? Huh?

"Excuse me, My old Queen, I have to get ready to go out."

Where are you going? You can't leave me. It's my birthday!!

 "I'm sorry, but the Grand Marshal in the Spit Parade can't be late."

That dog is such a traitor.