In addition to being smart, gorgeous, ridiculously talented, and pig kissing yummy, Lisa Barone is also one year older.

Happy Birthday!

Allow me, dear Lisa, to give you the appreciation your cats do not.

You need not feed me or strain my feces out of a box or anything to get my appreciation. You need only keep writing and making me smile and giggle.

As I did one year ago (wow. a year? to me it has only been, like three beers or something ago. time is weird like poo) I create my only post solely dedicated to one person for Lisa, Lisa, and Lisa Barone.

This is mostly due to how fabulous and wonderful she is.

She is sooo wonderful that I will now embarrass her with photos of the last year of me and Lisa.

A Year of Me and Lisa

Evil and Lostfulness got together and spawned a creature named Rebecca, so sometimes me and Lisa have to look at maps…

I bet you have always wondered if Lisa can eat corn, choke on it, laugh, and stain her shirt all at the same time. The answer is yes…

Can we rock out in Vegas amongst our rocking friends?

Oh yeah… and I don’t just mean any “oh yeah”.

I mean the type of “oh yeah” that was in Ferris Bueller and had a “doo bomp bomp” after it.

Can we share magazines covers with eachother?

Are we drunk? I can’t tell….

Can I make her pout? Yep.

The next photo is a photo that I cut Jane out of. Lisa will be okay with that…

Speaking of cutting people out of photos, here is what will happen to you if you happen to be in a photo with Lisa when her hair looks good (or if she is wearing her knee socks)… you will be cut out of it and become one of her Facebook profile pics…

Do I like Lisa? Very. very, a whole bunch alot yes…

Speaking of hair, now for a story that even Lisa dosen’t know about….

It was Valentines day. I was worried about Lisa, because she had told me that her hair had been “ruined” by a stylist (it ends up that it wasn’t ruined, it was only like a millimeter shorter, but I didn’t know this). I was drunk. I was really drunk, and I was flipping out, I thought her hair got chopped off, like a foot of it or something and I started feeling bad, I was really really worried. I had a host of things I was stressing on at that moment, but I was actually rather concerned, and I wanted Lisa happy. If someone would have asked me what I wanted I would have responded…

“Lisa. Happy.”

I did what any man would do in such a situation.

I went to Walgreens.

“Where”, I asked the nice lady working at the counter, “are your crayons?”

She told me the aisle and I stumbled towards it, hoping desperately that there was also colored construction paper in the same aisle. Like I said I was drunk, I wasn’t sure at that point how many Walgreen aisles I could handle.

I bought crayons. I bought construction paper.

I took a cab home (I lived two blocks away but I really was drunk). Cab driver was ass. I tipped him bunches.

I entered my apartment, sure of my path. I must write to Lisa a crayon on construction paper story. Her hair is gone. She is sad. Must, using my enormous talent, create a smile for Lisa.

Here is the story that I never sent to her…

The story begins…