I wanna give an extra special thank you to my parents for having sexual intercourse the night I was conceived. There's also need to thank my Grandma Molly for letting my older brother and two other sisters sleep at her house the night of my conception. Without her generosity, my parents could not have had the time and privacy they needed to get their swerve on.
Another huge thank you must also go out to the makers of Paul Mason wine. You're Chablee is not only crisp and tasty, but most importantly affordable, thus enabling my pops to purchase three bottles that night, giving my mother the proper buzz her normally reserved demeanor needed to let loose and get into the groove.
And a monster shout out goes to Vivian the hairdresses for doing up my mama's boufant so fine that night that my dad was actually heard to say "Damn woman, you look even hotter than one of those James Bond bitches!" And all my love and respect goes out to the manufacturers of the 1965 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Thank you for making a back seat roomy enough for a large man such as my pops. It allowed him to get the proper traction he needed to perform his famous eight minute humpty-hump love pump.
But mostly I'd like to give massive props to the pharmacist at the Brooklyn Heights drug store for telling my dad that lamb skin prophalactics provide greater sensitivity, and not for mentioning lamb skin only has 96% reliability. Mom…Dad… you never treated me like a mistake and I love you for it. GOD BLESS YOU ALL!!!
Wrong. Always.