Na na na na na na, YOU SAY IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY.
Na na na na na na, IT’S MY BIRTHDAY TOO!
Na na na na na na, no, really…it’s my birthday. Is it really your birthday? Happy birthday! Even if it isn’t your birthday you should say it is because everyone has at least one shitty birthday and you should get a do-over, so it’s now your birthday too. EVERYONE WINS. Especially me because I woke up to messages like this one from my sister:
I got a crazy weird miracle birthday present in the form of three used copies of the exact same book but it’s way too long to explain and when I paused to say “ISN’T THAT INSANE?” you’d be like, “Um…I guess? Is that the miracle? ‘Cause it just sounds like you got too many copies of one book, weirdo” but in my head it’s a message from the universe that something good is out there and that’s exactly what I needed.
And I thought maybe it’s a sign that I should give back books so here’s what…the first ten people who leave a comment telling me they really need a copy of Furiously Happy but haven’t been able to afford it yet will get one. Not a signed copy (because I’m lazy) but I’ll send you a gift card for the book through your email. Just leave me a comment if you’re in a bad spot and need to read something to remind you that depression lies and that things will be okay. Because they will be. I promise.
And in lieu of birthday presents what I’d really like is for you to tell me something you’re happy about. Something little. Something big. Videos of goats screaming. Anything.
I love you guys.
Bonus birthday photo of me and Hunter S. Thomcat, who was named the king of photobombs last night. CATOUFLAGE! (That’ll make sense when you read the book. Probably.)
UPDATED: Those first 10 copies went quickly, but I just got an email from someone who wants to anonymously gift another 10 copies. More emails going out tonight. I love y’all more than cake.