and today is her 22nd birthday.
by america i mean south america, central america, north america and canada america, of course.
raymi writes exactly the sort of blog that id make if i was a chain smoking karaoke singing topless cussing rock star from toronto.
she had me at pffft.
people say why dont you just marry her already but im not worthy of a raymi le minx. what would i do but disappoint her. she deserves so much more than me. she deserves like the ’97-98 chicago bulls.
i dont know how her man fil does it. whats it like to stare into the sun all day. whats it like to hear symphonic music every time she opens her mouth. whats it like to see the mona lisa every time she strikes a pose.
raymi came over to my house once a very long time ago. not even the stars knew what to do so they all fell all at the same time and night was turned to day. the world kept spinning but the earth locked up and raymi got off and straightened its axis cuz it looked “gay” all crooked like that.
soon there was a knock at the door and there was a pizza boy there with beer and smokes and weed and funyuns. he would not accept our money when he saw who everything was for and raymi said thats right bitch and kicked his ass as he left. it was a love tap but after she slammed the door she pulled out the yellow bag and said who the hell ordered the funyuns.
i never admitted that it was me who ordered the funyuns. until now.
the pizza dude had left behind an ice cold two litre of coke which raymi drank straight from the bottle. i was happy to drink from it right after she did and i didnt even wipe it off. if there were such things as raymi germs i wanted them. who wouldnt.
i think she drank a lot more than i did because soon she was bouncing off the walls, getting terrifically bored with everything the minute she looked at it. it was awesome. here i was mr. entertainment and i had my blogging idol in my domicile and the game was “dont bore raymi”. so i turned on the tivo and she worked through that super fast, so i turned on my vcr and she tore through my 55 years of tape recordings, then i clicked some bill monroe on my winamp and we square danced right there in the living room accidentally knocking over bongs and water pipes and hookahs and midgets.
i wondered if she was going to get naked for me but she didnt and i was sorta relieved becuase i didnt want all my hair to turn white and i didnt want to pass out right there infront of her, which i woulda done. no seriously, i woulda.
we had a little semi battle of wills when she started ordering me around, which she seemingly likes to do. i dont mind being of service, but in america im the king of the jungle. and by america i mean my house. and theres only so many things a man can do at once. do you want the tortilla chips or do you want your crust removed from your slice. make up your mind. do you want me to find the liquid e or do you want me to dig up the new j-lo video. i only have two hands.
but raymi was great. she wanted all of it. she was very much like the lizard king, she even whispered it: we want the world and we want it
so happy birthday queen of everything, princess of persia, goddess of the underground, ruler of all things considered. even though you may not know it you’ve influenced every blog ever made including this one. every day.
in a perfect world our two countries would buy us a motorhome and let us drive around the globe telling people how to do everything from line dancing to building spice racks.
we’d be bigger than howard stern
and we’d never go disco.