The Boy Who Trips Over Grass

T'is a few days late, but...

 Happy Birthday, Bryce!

I thought writing after the day of the party would give me something more to write about for your birthday. Or this could just be a crappy excuse to not post this on the actual day... Hehe. I heard there were several that forgot your actual birthday. Tut tut. You should remind them when you get together for your threesomes.

The party was pretty hardcore.
Full of jugs and beavers.
I still don't know what the beaver means, so it might sound pretty wrong.

Dear god, I just googled it up.
Why would people refer to that as beavers?
Or does it just mean the hair?
Maybe I should've looked it up before I got you the card.
Please don't look up "jugs and beavers" in the same search on Google. Or anywhere.

Anyway.

Thank you for inviting me to the dinner. It was extremely relaxing and fun, and I hope it was the same for you too.
I wish you all the best for this upcoming year and I've already granted you a peaceful, long life with an apple.
And yes, you have to eat the apple to get the long peacefulness and not let it rot like Rudy's potato.

I'm guessing I probably won't see you next year, and possibly the year after that, and maybe the one after that too. It applies for almost everybody really, but I think you're the only one who is aspiring to become a musician or do something in the music industry.
I'll be cheering for you all the way until you get to the big stage, and hopefully, you'll have made awkwardness the newest trend and the hippest thing to be :D

You're 18 now, son. And you can do whatever you want. Whatever you want.
Which means you can now trip over grass in style.
And drink. And smoke. And combine them all together to drink, and smoke grass.

Okay, I've run out of things to say.
Merry Christmas!