When you invited me to your party, I had no idea what to do. Everyone knows you have it all: flashy car, secret cave full of jewels, world’s most extensive collection of ’70s superstar ‘staches, and a flourishing ant farm.
So on my way to your party, I thought about all these things that you have. I thought about the inevitable Cartier watch you’ll get from your parents, the mink coat from your grandmother, and the 40-carat ring from your boyfriend.
I could have picked you some fresh flowers, but you have your own florist. I could have written you a poem, but entire tomes of flowering prose have been published in your honor. I could have given you my heart, but I did that for your thirteenth birthday. So I pulled this star down from the sky. I hope you like it because it burned the shit out of my hands.