I went home for the weekend and told my mom she should make me lasagne. She always makes me lasagne for my birthday and she didn't do it this year. So I whined and she got cranky.
"Well! You haven't been home for me to make it!"
I whined some more and she got even crankier and said she wasn't making it. Then I cried and said she hated me. I'm the best daughter ever.
Because my mom is the best mom ever, she made me lasagne Saturday night. That lady is awesome. As we all chowed down, I realized something.
"You know what this means," I announced. "I have successfully extended my birthday past Thanksgiving. This is a new record."
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