Payback is a yitch and I’m another Beer older

Dear Mom,

I was born in 1975. Subtract the 20 and carry the one and… count the toes, and that makes me thirty-two. (32)

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I’m forgiven for forgetting your birthday that time, right?

Love, your daughter who isn’t lying about her age just quite yet.

P.S. The card is lovely, though.
P.S.S. I appreciate it and I did get the thirty-one dollars for starbucks.
P.S.S.S.P.S.P.S. If I had to pick an age to lie about, it would probably be twenty eight? Or even thirty? Or, hell, maybe thirty-one but I’d also lie and say I was a former playboy bunny and HAHAHA this is what happens when you turn thirty-one you skinny bitches.
PSPSPS S S S S S S. But I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway.