Consider yourselves warned: we are exactly one month until my 25th birthday.

25 is a big year. I’ll be a whole quarter of a century, or 25/27 through my life. It’s a time for evaluation, but I won’t get into that now. What I will get into now is possible birthday presents.

The following is a list of things that I would like for my birthday. Please work out among yourselves who’s getting what.

- a giant fucking carrot cake
- a big ass bread bowl of New England Clam Chowder
- some books with pictures of boobs in them
- vodka, but good vodka
- art to decorate my room (preferably nudes)
- a portrait of myself, painted by Zito on Ludlow Street, in a 17th century Russian boyar’s uniform, with a giant mastiff on my left, and a giant Reuben in my right hand
- a cheesesteak or two
- a case of black cherry soda
[this list subject to change]

Of course, there is one present that I’ve been asking for for years but so far I have gotten it. It is (drumroll please) a threesome.

[To clear that up, that's me with two girls. That's the only combination.]

I’ve always wanted this, and I don’t think I’m asking for too much here. I’d like to ask my female friends to consider all the times over the years I’ve made them laugh, bought them drinks, given them man advice – even gotten into fights for them. And all I ask is for two of them to come to my room and let me have my way with them, only for a moment. To sweeten the deal:

1) Realizing that having a threesome with me involved is probably the least appealing sexual activity in the universe, I’m willing to provide up to $800 worth of cocaine to make this happen. I have a lot of friends who are “in the know”, and this wouldn’t be a problem. Rohypnol, weed, X and a multitude of other drugs can be provided with 24 hours advanced notice.

2) Honestly, the whole thing would probably last maybe 4 or 5 minutes. You’re telling me you can’t spend 4 or 5 minutes of your time to validate my entire existence? To completely turn my miserable life around? To make me, for at least a week, the happiest guy on the planet? Come on – stop being so damn selfish for just one second.

3) In return, I will give you one favor of your choosing. If, after the threesome, you want me to move out of the area, well, I will do it. If, after the threesome, you want me to steal a car for you, I will do it. If, after the threesome, you want me to never mention it again, well, I can’t do that. But you get the point.

I’m not asking for a “yes” or “no” right now. All I’m asking for is that you all (females) think about it. I’ve had a few twosomes in my day and about a million onesomes, but no threesomes. This is probably going to be one of my last birthdays – won’t you help make it enjoyable? For me? [Not so much you]

This morning I complained about my sty and my friend Lara said, “You know what you do? You get a wedding ring, and you make a circle around the eye three times, and it will go away.”

Apparently, my friend Lara has become a witch. Or maybe she went to med school with my old doctor (see 3/5).

When I made fun of her about it, she defended it, saying it works, and that her mom told her about it and seriously, it works.

So she called her mom to ask exactly how this “cure” is performed. Her mom left her a voicemail, and Lara forwarded this message to me:

“Hi Lara, call me back, but to answer your question, the wedding ring must be gold and have no stones on it. It’s important that it has no stones at all and it’s gold. It has to be held in the right hand, and you have to get as close to the person with the sty as you can without touching the skin, and make three slow circles around the eye with the sty. Remember, you can’t touch the skin, but get as close as you can, and do it very slowly, three times.”

Um, ok. Silly me – I didn’t realize that we were in Medieval England. Since we are, I have devised my own method of birth control for men, so that they no longer have to wear condoms (this will not prevent STD’s, but only other people get STD’s, not me):

First, you have to gather the ingredients: a jar of mild salsa, a Lhasa Apso (the longer the hair of the dog, the better), a Snickers bar, and the “Phantom of the Opera” soundtrack (Original Cast ONLY – I can not stress this enough).

Here goes: bring the Lhasa Apso into a room, curtains drawn, and split the Snickers bar with him. After you and the dog have finished the Snickers bar, start the “Phantom of the Opera” soundtrack. Do nothing until “Angel of Music” comes on. At that point, take your balls and put them in the jar of salsa. They must stay there until “All I Ask of You” is over. While your balls are in the salsa, you MUST NOT TAKE YOUR EYES OFF THE DOG. If you avert your eyes, even for a second, the whole things is ruined.

Once “All I Ask of You” is over, remove your testicles from the salsa. Say to the dog twice, “Strange, how we suffer in spite of this.” Then clean the salsa off your nuts.

These steps, followed precisely, will dull your sperm and render you unable to knock up any lady. Also, if you can get an American Indian to witness the whole thing, it will bring you good luck. If no American Indians can be found, a Mexican should do the trick.

But as for the sty, apparently there’s a cream you can buy, but I haven’t bought this, because that would involve going to the pharmacy, and it’s really humid out.

Someone who shall remain nameless wrote to me and suggested I put something called “boric acid” on my eye, but those two words are the scariest I’ve ever heard in my life (aside from “fat free” of course).

So my plan for the sty is to wait it out. And my plan for my new birth control method is to buy a lot of salsa this weekend.

God I fucking love salsa.