Hmm. On second thought, let me rethink that title. For my 7th birthday party, my abuelita slapped my hands for kicking one of my cousins down the slide (Well, bitch wouldn’t move her ass!), one of my gifts was She-Ra’s Castle and I spent most of the day wondering why I didn’t get all Donald Duck-ey in the voice after sucking the air out of my balloons (CHILD GENIUS ALERT: the balloons weren’t blown up with helium). So that was my 7th birthday party.
Pax spent his on a boat in Paris watching St. Angie slurp on a goblet filled with warm sacrificial blood while listening to his dad yammer for hours about buildings, or some shit. Maddox and Zahara already chewed up all the Dramamine, so Pax had to go it sober. Yeah, maybe the point goes to me after all.
BUT WAIT, are those NILLA WAFERS around Pax’s cake?! Okay, let me pass the point back to Pax. Damn. Damn. Damn.