No birthday is complete without an overstimulated, sugar-induced, wild-eyed screaming meltdown, right?

I had a friend named Christina when I was five.  We went to her 5th or 6th birthday party and all I really remember about it is the moment when she snapped.  She was standing by the swing-set with pink and white cake in her hair and on her dress screaming, "I HATE YOU ALL!  EVERYTHING IS RUINED!"

And I remember my dad with his Super 8 camera filming gleefully away.

"Are you getting all this, Chuck?" her dad asked my dad.

"You're already planning on showing this to her prom date, aren't you?" my dad replied.

"Can't wait."

Oh, and look what Roy at Alicublog gave me!

Quote:

God bless Michelle Malkin. When I have trouble finding teh crazy she's like a big, screaming lighthouse guiding me to the rocky shoals of psychopathology.

No, God bless you, Roy.  You shouldn't have.

You really shouldn't have. 

(Don't forget to wish my brother a Happy Birthday, too.)

I'm tentatively scheduling my tantrum for about 4:30. 

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