This is what I wrote in the Frequent Flyer's 25th birthday book. It defines our relationship quite accurately, I think. There are a lot of running inside jokes so you might not get all of it. Her birthday party was called The Night of 1001 Delights and it was a "t'ing of bewdy" (I'm starting with the inside jokes already...that's me saying "thing of beauty"). We hired a spa, we hung draperies of exotic colours to cover all the walls and had cushions and candles all over the place. And there was incense...ah, it was lovely.
"...Since the day I landed we've visited The Wall 7 times, had 90 days of unemployment (and still counting), went to the beach 12 times with the green or the amber or both in hand, smoked 23 j's (one of which was with Cat Empire), oh yeah, been to 2 Cat Empire shows, sang along to CD1 300 times, repurchased 3 Guns n Roses CDs, you've learnt to play 5 songs on the guitar, we've done Redemption Song 77 times and got it all right from start to finish ONCE, popped twice, made 58 pinky pacts that we would SO keep if we remembered what they were, accumulated 103 pairs of earings, brought home 75 items of unique loveliness from Treasure Cove, got honked at by 3 carloads of boys during one walk along West Coast Drive, become the keepers of the 2 magnificent Morningstar brothers, said we'd quit smoking 23 times, found 2 cute Macca's boys, planned 3 house/studios so I can be the female version of Gustav Klimt, envisioned 2 Jedi robes for ourselves, yelled at the sky 64 times because it felt good, reminisced about our 79 boys and the two we'd rather forget, met 22 randos and had one near miss with a Good Sammy truck...
So count 'em. That's 1001 delights right there, dude. Even if we are unrepentant bums, Who's Cares? We're laughing more than anyone else I know. If we're doing some things wrong we're doing other things perfectly right. Way uber. And you know you're the only person who this could've happened with. It's the chemicals, man!
Damn, I write so much shit.
Anyway, 25's a good year, man, like butter through a knife. You know what you want. Go get it. Coz what I wrote for your 18th were the truest words I've ever written: You're destined for the best, baby.
Don't you fucking forget it.
Your loving wife,
Kat
DISCLAIMER: The numbers quoted in this testimonial may or may not be accurate."
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