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You say it's my birthday

While it may seem a trifle unfair that I am hosting the party tonight (you are coming, aren't you?), I worked my knuckles to the bone doing all the preparations last night so that all I have to do tonight is sit back and be showered with love and expensive gifts (you are bringing a gift, aren't you?).

The cake is made, though I have yet to convince anyone to jump out of it. The dog is too hairy, and I can hardly be expected to take on that role: it's my birthday!

I was going to put the gigantic bowl of ice cream outside for the night (it's the largest freezer I know of at this time of the year), but B knew that ruffians would run off with it or he and the dog would split it or some other equally horrifying thing would happen and the party would be ice cream-less.

No ice cream and no stripper. What kind of party would that be? The ice cream has displaced 64% of my freezer, but I don't think a stripper would fit in there. Too much ice cream, you know.