Happy birthday Tassy .

You have changed my life immensely. You have expanded my horizons, pushed my boundaries, and have positively been the worst possible influence for my gentle, upstanding, largely prudish life. You were not my devil. Not my Eve. Not even my apple. You were all three. You were sex, drugs and rock and roll all wrapped up in a big, pink box. Since I have met you, my career fell to pieces, my blog got smutty, I offended my family, pissed off the fan club, and been accused by my father of being “perverted.”

And I do so love you for all of that.

With you I learned how to be more confident. How to feel sexy. How to look a little less and leap a little more. How to inhale. How to, uh, properly use a web cam. And how to meet interesting and naked people on the internet. I live more in the moment. I’m more able. More confident. And more able to confidently grab a handful of her hair.

That you have fallen in love with my digital inspiration seems inevitable. And totally right. When Halcyon messaged me months ago and asked me if it was cool for him to pursue you, a tear came to my eye. Not because I was jealous that "Captain Happy Pants” was trying to get into yours, but because I was deeply touched that he cared enough about our friendship to ask. He didn’t have to. He didn’t need to.

A lesser man wouldn’t have. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have. But I was honored by the gesture.

I have been convinced for years that the two of you are perfect for each other. Both digital explorers courageously navigating life by the light of stars only you can see. While everyone else watches the road, you both watch the sky. Who would have thought that you both would find someone looking at that sky through the same pink colored lenses? You two are cut from the same, uh, latex.

So Happy Birthday, Tassy.
Thank you Hal for asking.
Thank you Tassy for, well, everything.
I love you both.
Keep thinking pink.