Front: It’s your birthday.
Inside: But don’t expect special treatment, I don’t like you that much.
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Front: Everyone keeps telling me it’s your birthday.
Inside: Like I’m supposed to care or something.
Front: Every year on this day, we celebrate your birth.
Inside: And I’m getting sick of it.
Front: It’s your birthday and I love you so much it burns.
Inside: Or maybe that’s the herpes.