Happy Birthday!

BIRFDAYZ!!!

Congrats on surviving 34 years.

Happy birthday boss: remember, it’s not about getting better so much as it’s about how many teams of people they send at you when you eventually snap, and whether or not you can take out the bridge.

This was not a coded message.

Hope you’re doing well, and more than a little frightened about your aspirations of reproduction. Then again, no one had the skillz to stop me, so I am sure you’ll succeed! Good luck!

Birthday, happy, wish, etc. etc.

Happy Birthday young’in and congrats on a great year! I must say you do dole out the advice and experience of someone older that a mere 34 niblets – and that is coming from an menopausal rambling old woman lol!!

I read this way earlier and I didn’t comment… I wonder why. Maybe I forgot when I switched computers? Hmm.

Either way, happy birthday Chuck! Hope it’s a good one!

“Young’un.” Heh. Yeah, I know 34 ain’t old, but I sometimes feel it. (It’s the bald spot. Which my new haircut deftly makes a non-issue, Praise Be To Salon Lady.)

Thanks, all. You rock.

– c.

Oh, and @Rick — yes, the thought of me breeding should be horrifying to all who consider it. Eye-meltingly so. Like, it should grant one the same level of madness afforded to those who have nestled in Cthulhu’s bosoms. Or, “bazooms.”

Thankfully, my wife’s genetics should balance out my own, thus staving off the Wendigopocalypse.

– c.

I just realized we are both ‘76ers. Way to go, super patriot. How’s that Tea Party, Bicentennial Boy? Huh? Huh? You feel like a little extra AMERICA in your POW?

I have no clue. Don’t ask.

I am left to believe that POW means “Prisoner of War.”

And, as a certified member of the tea party, I believe that under this Socialist Presidente, we are all Prisoners of War, and our freedom? Our Constitution? Er — I mean, our “Consitutoin” — is MIA, Missing In Action.

DAMN OUR KENYAN PINKO OVERLORD.

…

Whoa.

I really need to finish this coffee that OH GODDAMNIT I just spilled in my lap.

Hot crotch, comin’atcha.

Yes. 1976, baby. Repruhzent.

– c.

Where’s the birth certificate, Chuck? WHERE IS IT?!

So yeah. Happy birthday. This ear infection I got? Totally was on the way to you before I intercepted it, all noble and self-sacrificing and shit. Halt, villain! The Wendig shall not haveth an ear infection upon this holiest of holy days! Comest thou into my ear, and leave The Wendig unblemishéd.

So don’t say I never got ya nuthin’.

(PS: if you take enough ibuprofen, it makes you loopy. Just sayin’.)

Listen, I don’t want to offend anybody, but @Maggie, I just want to clear the air: “Comest thou into my ear” is a dangerous thing to say on the Internets. The porn-bots alone that will find you. Hunter-seekers, all of them.

But I do appreciate you taking the Bacterial Bullet for me. So, thanks!

Y’know, I don’t know that I’ve ever had an ear infection.

Yay!

– c.

Where would I be if not for you? Even if it’s pretty sad that a girl can’t get her Old English on without risking porn-bots and creepy old men who are pretending to be 18 year old hotties.

The Internet is secretly trying to murder Old English. It’s true. I read it on the Internet!

– c.

Happy Birthday. Chuck.

Are you like me? When the exact time of your birth hit; did you hear any music?
Such as these fine examples:
Example 1
Example 2
Example 3
Example 4

Also…I’m a fellow 76′er. Let me clarify that I was born in 1976 and not a part of a hideous basketball team that plays in the city of Philadelphia.

Sadly, Paul, I *am* a 76er — a Philly basketball player. This explains, actually, why they’re a hideous team. For I am a stumpy white dude. I do not rule the court.

And the music heard upon my blood-soaked nativity was THIS.

Which, frankly, is better than this.

– c.

(Oh, and thanks!)

I also feel comfortable stating that, I totally love this awesome Portal remix: The Device Has Been Modified.

– c.

“you shine a light into dark spaces”

So you’re saying that we’re your metaphor rectal exam? The candle wick in your compass rose? The golden eye for your brown eye? That’s so romantical I could blush.

I’d say that you’ve had a fantastic year, and mostly because you’ve met me, but then again, I’m a shameless attention whore. Yeah, yeah, and your agent and writing and successes and your beautiful wife and dogs and just WELL DONE, CHUCK.

Happiest of birthdays, Amigo.

Happy Birthday man! And thanks for an awesome site.

The Device Has Been Modified v2.

There you are, just for your echelon ascension. Many Happy Returns!

In terms of rituals, I try to get my paws on something I’ve long sought, be it a game or book or movie, and try to eat at an IHOP or steakhouse or something. Maybe both.

Delurking to say “Happy Birthday”. Thanks for writing such great posts, they really make me “think” and motivate me to get off my behind and accomplish stuff and whatnot. Happy Birthday again. Bye now. (I swear I am not one of those creepy internet stalker types – I found you through Julie S.)

Happy Birthday, you mad bastard.

I had something witty to add, but it just flew out of my head like a broken-winged otter. Dammit. I guess that’s the price for spending my twenties roaming the Southern US in a blue-green haze. Sigh.

Enjoy your day, sir. Now that you’ve passed into the 34th degree, expect an Illuminati rep to swing by for a quick chat.

@Heather:

Thank you!

And… so, you’re not Heather Grove. You’re Heather Groves?

You must now find Heather Grove here and battle her for supremacy.

I told you: cake and bloodsport.

– c.

Thanks, @Paul — damn otters.

@Stoney:

No birthday is complete without your own unique brand of vulgarity. I gotta say — you manage to outpace me in the filth department, and my appreciation for that is an infinite well.

Like a giant suppurating prolapsed asshole.

*blush*

(thanks!)

– c.

I have evidence that you DO rule the court. You’re far too modest. You’ve been the only bright spot for the team this year!

http://imgur.com/vNFnm.jpg

Paul, you just made me pee my pants a little.

Well, okay, a lot. Like, these pants are fucking toast. Urine-soaked toast.

– c.

Happy Birthday!

Seeing as my birthday is December 24th, I celebrate by not having any friends.

I’m joking, of course. I obviously mean by having hardly any friends.

Happy birthday, Chuckers!

Hey, happy birthday!

Congrats — continued success in the 34th year.

Thanks, fine fellows! @Eddy — you know I’m always your friend. And seeing as how I have like, a dozen or so personalities, you can count them all individually. Score!

I just eat a lot on my birthday, to be honest.

Pleased to have made your virtual acquaintence this year, old sport. Of course that means your saddled with my nonsense FOR THE REST OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE. Actually, probably not, since I’m, like, WAY older than you. But for a while, anyway. Now here’s the dangerous bit — if you send a street address, I’ll send a B-Day goodie your way. Of course then I’ll know where you live . . .

I’ll add my voice to the 76 Pride chorus.

And happy birthday, mang.

Backatcha, Daniel-Boy. (Better than Danny Boy, right?)

I look forward to your presence for the rest of our continued existences.

Though, it is weird when you watch me shower.

…

I mean, not that weird.

– c.

@Russell —

A man after my own heart.

I, too, am a birthday gourmand. Or, glutton. Something like that.

- c.

The cake is a lie!

Happy birthday, dude. Drawing breath for 34 years is an accomplishment itself.

We usually celebrate birthdays by gorging on burgers and fried eggs. Then we have an 11-hour session of blowing suckas up in TF2.

Happy anniversary of the day you were squeezed out of the womb!

I hit the big 4-0 almost two weeks ago. Had a big party. Invited all my friends. It was a blast. I try to do that about every 5 years. On the other years, my wife and I hit a restaurant I love and have a quiet evening.

I hope you have a great day and an incredible year filled with success!

@Chuck, can I could your beard, too?

Happy Birthday, Chuck.

I’m with you: small things for myself. I often ditch the office and go see a cheesy action flick by myself. Sounds lame/depressing, but it’s actually a lot of fun: movie junk food, duck into another theater to catch the end of something else, etc.

Then we shall share age 34 for but a single day, as on the morrow, I ascend to Echelon 35!

Please to enjoy this slightly used 34th Echelon.

It’s life day! RENEW! RENEW!

Happy birthday Chuck! Lvl 34 you say? Are you going to multiclass? What feats did you take?

Happy Beard Birthday!!!!! Hope it’s awesome.
As to celebrating, I’m old, I’m just glad for another year and pray nothing else breaks down.

Okay, I told a fib! If I’m lucky, I get to go to Mom’s for some of my Step Dad’s Strawberry pie and her Puerto Rican cooking! Oh yeah, baby!

34? Whoopty shit for you. I have socks older than you. Really. I still have a pair of wool socks the Army gave me at Basic Training, January 1980.

Birthday traditions? I like to spend my day with people who are important to me. Usually I take my Beloved Spouse and the Sole Heir out to dinner, most likely for a nice steak.

Happy Birthday, Chuck.

Personally, I like to celebrate by taking a day off from work, from the family (kids, wife, what-have-you) and spend it wandering about with my camera. I don’t get to do that enough, and I like to wander about the city and take photos. This year, it will be postponed because of other events…but maybe sometime in May or June, I’ll go out and try to capture terrible things on (digital) film.

Zoinks. I turn around to go to Five Guys burgers and you people really step up with the love.

Thanks, peepage.

@Travis: Camera — yeah, would be a good day for that. Might need to sneak in some shots.

@Gloria: Oooh. Puerto Rican cooking. What defines that? Is it… close to Cuban? Plantains and whatnot?

@Dana: On your birthday dinners, do you wear your 30 year-old socks? (And dangit, those socks are *not* older than me — I’ve got four years. I have seniority!)

@John: I took the ACROBATIC PENIS feat.

@Jeff: Holy shit! As I murder the 33rd year, you sneak up and backstab the 34th year! Dang. Happy birthday, man! This 34th echelon smells like Dana’s socks.

@Justin: Not depressing at all. That actually sounds awesome.

@Eddy: “Can I could your beard?” I don’t know what that means. STOP SPEAKING IN CODE. My mind is already fragile. Don’t toy with its tender mercies.

@Darren: Quiet evening for the win.

@Michelle: Burgers and… fried eggs? Like, together? Are you talking something akin to the mythic LOCO MOCO?

– c

Fantastic year, well done.

Keep doing it because a lot of us are waiting to loot your corpse when you’re rich and die in an auto-erotic asphyxiation related accident.

Without getting too sappy, you’re an inspiration, and truth to what Steven King said about how you can’t do anything as a writer before you’re thirty. Look at you fly.

Look at you fly.

Very nice things to say, Filamena. So nice, in fact, that I’ll even call you moments before I begin my journey toward auto-erotic asphyxiation xanadu!

So, y’know, thanks.

– c.

Congrats on reaching level 34! I’m still at level 31.

If I kill you and eat your black little soul, would that make me 34 as well? I’m trying to work my way up to retirement age before social security runs out.

@Tome:

It’ll only get you to level 32. It’s like diablerie in V:tM. You can only go so high by consuming the heartsblood of your elders.

– c.

Yep. Do it. You won’t regret it. Especially if you’re a meat, cheese, bun kinda burger-eater. If you like a ton of toppings (like me) the subtle egg taste can get lost. But try it out anyway.

Most servers will look at you like you asked them to put a fried baby on there, but they’ll still hook it up.

Oh, you don’t have to convince me — I’m already a fan. We had the LOCO MOCO (burger, egg, atop rice, gravy over top) in Hawaii, and I’ve since made it at home.

Word.

Mmm.

– c.

The loco moco:

http://www.squidoo.com/loco-moco

Happy Birthday. Have a nice time at dinner–eat and drink waaaaaay too much. Have a slobbering, crotch-scratching, sandy-eyed monster hang-over tomorrow to show the world how happy your birthday was.

@Jen:

Sold! (And thanks.)

Dinner won’t be till Saturday, when we can go early and stay late. Tonight will be fairly tepid, but nicely so: baking cookies, The Wire, and a little NBC comedy programming.

– c.

Happy Birfday, Mr. Chuck! You know what this means, don’t you? It means you’re always going to be older than me. Like, always and forever, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Neener neener neeeenerrrr!

At any rate, I am right this very moment enjoying a piece of DQ ice cream cake in your honor. You wanna know the becuz why? It’s cuz I’m effing psychic, that’s why. I was prepared for this.

Actually, the cake was from yesterday when my place of business celebrated me for being an awesome freaking “Administrative Professional” *snort* but you know – semantics and all that.

Have a good one, Chuck, and I look forward to following you (closely – seriously. really closely. stop picking your nose. i saw that.) during your 34th year.

Wait. I’m OLDER than you?! How the crap can that be?!

Happy Birthday, Chuck. Huzzah on having a great 33rd year. Here’s to making 34 even better.

*holds up glass*

My birthday ritual: I call my mom and thank her for putting up with me.

Congratulations! And good luck

@Gina: I expect you to Fed Ex me ice cream cake. I mean, I won’t eat it. But I want to see the look on the Fed Ex guy’s face.

@Amy: Well, you don’t *look* older, if it’s any consolation. Don’t grow a beard.

@DeAnna: Thanky!

– c.

Eggs on burgers are fantastic. There’s a burger at the local Irish pub, salt hill, called The Jake: a burger with cheddar, bacon, and a fried egg on top. It is divine. It is why pigs give us bacon and lay eggs.

It is also what gets me through every Tuesday, even though I almost never order it. The thing is, Liz and I go to salt hill every Tuesday, and every Tuesday I say to myself, “Self, I feel like having a Jake tonight”. And then I go and look at the menu and when I pick something else — no matter what it is, like pork rinds covered in chili and cheese — that something else is inherently healthier and more virtuous than the Jake. And therefore I win. And can have an extra Guinness.

On this most exalted of days, what the hell are you doing answering all these people? Just take their (our) well wishes and turn your nose up at them (us), good sir. Today, if no other day, you reserve the right to be an elitist asshole and not talk to the (we) poor plebes here in the Internet World.

As for the genetic seed, good luck. I wouldn’t advise tic tacs as a replacement for birth control pills. First off, they’re not the right shape and secondly, birth control pills do not have a minty flavour. Try Zoloft: even if she notices you’ve replaced her pills, she’ll be too Zen to care.

@ Chuck:
(And dangit, those socks are *not* older than me — I’ve got four years. I have seniority!

Damn. (Carry 1980 from 2010, carry the one…shit)

Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I’m older than I thought (as evidenced by my deteriorating math skills) and you just looked younger in comparison.

Either way, happy birthday.