You didn’t really think I’d forget did you, Karen? You didn’t think you’d quietly read these posts and snicker that you’d somehow gotten by without the obligitory Birthday Shout-Out? Hello? Umm, Karen? Do you even READ my blog?
Whatever. KAREN is 40. FORTY. It’s almost impossible to believe, since she’s always been my sweet, young cousin. Emphasis on YOUNG. I guess it’s a bigger deal when you’re six and they’re two. Or say you’re FOUR, and your aunt and uncle who don’t have any kids treat you like your SPECIAL, which is a big deal because your the middle child and get no love or attention at ALL, then said aunt and uncle have a CHILD, betraying everything you thought you knew about them, drop you like a hot potato and lavish all their affection on a tiny, little interloper. Yeah, that might call for a SHOUT-OUT. A Birthday Shout-out, or as I like to call it, the day Lisa learned a hard lesson about familial ties.
Just look at HER. Those eyes! They’re saying, “Yeah, you were all that when they had no one else around, but beat it kid. I’m here now and I’m gonna kick your booty.” Oh sure, she ACTS sweet. But the evidence is conclusive.
She’s trying to CHOKE a cat, for crying out loud. Am I the only one who sees it? My whole life I’ve had to listen to, “Oh, isn’t Karen sweet?”, “Doesn’t Karen have a great job?”, “Don’t you just love her new house?”.
Just because she acts all nice, hangs out with her mom, and helps take care of her beloved father EVERY DAY as he battles Alzheimer’s, does not make her ALL THAT. Oh. Okay, I guess it does. Perhaps I misjudged the whole cat photo thing.
Happy Birthday, KARO!