DAY 16

Human Birthdays are strange. Last night there was much rejoicing over Flaming Cake (although no one offered me a single strawberry from it) followed by a "game" of passing a beeping disk around the room while they yelled random words and mocked each other. Growing up, there were so many of us our mother didn't bother with celebrating birthdays. She didn't bother with naming us either, we were all called "you". Most people don't know that I got my name from Alejandro Moreno the great Venezuelan football player. His mother found me in a burned out bollito truck after I escaped from Miss Venezuela 1979. That chick was craaaazy, I travelled with her for 3 months on her "peaceful Venezuela" tours. Peace? I guess anyone will find peace when you took as many benzos as she did. Anywho - Senora Moreno brought me home to play with her baby and since she had such a bad memory from too much smelting fumes from the steel factory she worked in, she called us both Alejandro. My middle names "Fluffy Carmel" are a llittle harder to explain, maybe later. But I digress...human birthday rituals suck.