Today is my 31st birthday. I’m in my fucking 30’s. Lame. In honor of this momentous and depressing occasion, Sweet Momo wrote me a poem. Imagine these words to the tune of the awful Third Eye Blind song She Likes Me for Me (sort of to the tune of that, but not exactly):

I love him for him
not because he likes to rock
or that he has an uncut cock
not because he drinks lots of beer
or ’cause he loves my rear

I love him for him
not because he walks the dog
or shares his life on his funny blog
Not cause he can play chords on his frets
or is obsessed with the internets

I love him for him
Not because he plays guitar
And enjoys hanging out at the bar
Lets me make out with his favorite boys
And handles it with coolness and poise

I love him for him
Not because he like his t-shirts tight
And likes to get it on, day and night
Not because he won’t eat meats
Or ’cause he’s awesome between the sheets

I love him for him
Not because he scratches my back
Or likes to touch my big rack
Not cause he’s into porn
But because today is the day that he was born.

Thanks, Momo!!! (Oh, and Momo wants to thank J.Mo, Freshie, and Lil’ Nell for their assistance.)

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