It's my birfday.

Opening my morning mail this morning, I got a strange package addressed to me in handwriting I didn't recognize. Yeah, I know all that business about not opening suspicious parcels, but I figured, what the hell? It's my birfday. I took a long drag of my cigarette and started fingering the packaging tape. I peeled the tape off of the top opening of the box and opened the flaps. Inside, nestled within the styrofoam peanuts was a bottle of Cristal wrapped in gold cello-paper. A card attached to the neck read:

Go, go, go, go, go, go, shorty its ya birthday
We gonna party like its ya birthday
Gonna sip Bacardi like its ya birthday
And you know we don't give a (what), cuz its ya birthday

Love you girl,
50 Cent

Aww. He remembered!!