Happy Birthday, Beaneet, o brother-from-another-leather. 3 years, big guy!
Thank you for your unconditional support. Otherwise I would've had no option but to hit rock bottom. Apologies for not having opened a Facebook account for you though. (Basic rights, I know, I know, if that total retard-of-a-Gujju-kid on the 2nd floor can have one, why can't you... I know.)
For the past three years, you have always been there beneath, Beaneet. You got kicked around, thrown on the bed, punched, drenched in water, cola, whisky. but not a sound from you.....
Beaneet, some might call you spineless, but I know that you do have a lot of balls.
(That's how you survived last month's 115-kilo body slam from yours truly, remember?) They'll always keep you from tearing apart.
Even though you choose to be glum, all by yourself, we still treat you as a part of our lives. See, now without giving a flying f**k, I resorted to wishing you a happy birthday on a Facebook status update (without using the words 'manuf**tured' or 'p**chase date') Also, I'm not sure you'll be getting the enough amount of likes or not - guess you should have been conceived with some whiskers or a wagging tail ,eh?!
Sure I may have compromised my stance against vain, irrational behaviour that I see many out there succumb to (like clicking a selfie in a room full of humans well-equipped with photo-clicking skills)....but hey, I work in an ad agency, remember??!
Hang in there, bud. Hope the next year may be your fourth, the year after that your fifth, and so on....(you get the drill). Cheers.