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You get 22...why? My new age. This is correct, my birthday has arrived, and drinks are on me *pours on himself* See? To celebrate this joyous occanomassion, I'd like to propose a toast *toaster dings* Will you marry me, toast? No? Pah, fine, you weren't hot enough for me anyway, ya whore(whole) wheat bread. Anyway, I'd like to to sing a tune dedicated to...something *ahem*


"Ooooohhhhh, Venin is my name, killing is my game,
See me coming after you, I just wanna say hey.
Unless I want to kill, in that case, better run;
Why so scared? I don't know where, not like I have a gun.
Ooh, birthdays are a time...for drinking and for rhyme.
I can do this all the day, and not even spend a dime.
So get up, y'all, off your butts, and dance with me NOW.
Cuz if you lie around all day, you'll be fat as a COW.
I have turned 22, let me tell you DaD.
If you ain't singing Venin's Song...then you're all dead to me~"

....you really aren't, but I don't care...I'm too happy and too inkneebriatamedifacalled to care....bear...where?....There....*points to some random direction*
Happy Birthday! then.
Yeah, happy birthday (belatedly). I remember when I turned 22. It was pretty dismal. I don't understand why you want to go killing, but to each his own.