Okay, before I go look at BFF's site (he has a FitBit that tracks his Web stats and tells him the IP address and favorite tribal affiliation of every single person who looks at his site, so he'll vouch), I post now what I meant, before I got tangled up in Shit You Really Don't Want To Know About, No, Really, to have scheduled to post at midnight last night:
Happy 27th Anniversary to BDR and EG, best beloveds, progenitors of bester beloved Planet, my lifelong true beloveds.
I always fucking forget to take care of this, one of the three most important posting days of any year. I, of course, was there, and you were not, unless you're Seatsix (I have trouble convincing myself that he was born by 1989, but really, he was) or Elric. It was one of the happiest days of my life too, excepting that my date was the one known to our history as the Sinister Bitch of Doom. If I'm not mistaken, I was standing next to the groom, but I'm pretty sure I hadn't stopped smoking giant busloads of dope by then, so mistaken is possible.
I no longer confused about BFF's birthday, and I nail it with some consistency. Considering the proximity of this anniversary to my own birthday, I should not be confused and incompetent about timely wishing my beloveds happy anniversary things, which I suspect will involve some fucking horrible ethnic food bereft of animal products.
Love transcends Indian food, though, and Happiest of days to my best beloveds.