Going forward, please attempt not to have brain surgery, become rapidly engaged, married, join a cult, shack up, Hulk out into a female bodybuilder, join the Army, whimsically change gender, get knocked up without my consent and/or a papal directive, make any sudden movements, or die unexpectedly, as this alarms me.

In fact, if you could clear all major life decisions, in writing, by submitting a form at least 364 days in advance of said process pending my express written permission, I would be highly appreciative, as it has been a very "exciting" 2006. In remembrance of that, I have named one of my gray hairs after each of your little IEDs. I do not like surprises. You are quite the ticking time bombs, aren't you...?

If any of you pops out of a cake wearing anything, or nothing, or even think about any unauthorized cake-, hymen-, placenta-, or question-popping, I will personally hog tie you and make you cry for your mommy until you regress to 3 year-old mentality and shit your pants while simultaneously licking my boot and begging to go back to eating Otter Pops and studying triangles and growing different types of seeds out of Styrofoam cups and making turkeys out of your hands and eating dirt and catching head lice in the corner like good little boys and girls.

Meanwhile, I will be in the other corner, with my second-grade mentality, as I think I must have wet my pants and gone home early the day all the other kids were learning to tell time.

Thank you.

Love,
Your Bewildered Friend/Relative.