Dear Clay,
It isn't that I don't still care about you. We've shared a lot of really wonderful memories. But... you're just not doing much to fulfill my needs anymore. I mean, working for Unicef and pouring yourself into your children's charity and I don't know, having a kid and stuff are all well and good, but what does that have to do with me? It's the singing Clay... if this is gonna work out between us, you really have to be singing. Your time on Broadway was nice and all... I heard you were really wonderful in Spamalot. I wouldn't know first hand though, would I? I waited and waited for my free trip to New York so that I could come and see you, but week after week, nothing. I just assumed that considering how we feel about each other, my coming to New York would have become a priority for you. Is there no love left?
And now, my birthday is next week. Next week, Clay! And I'm pretty sure you don't have ANY plans to sing at my party.
And now for the hard part. I've met someone else. I know I said it would never happen, but he just has the loveliest voice, and I get to hear it every single week! The last time he performed, I realized that if you take all the letters in the lyrics of his song, and rearrange them, dropping every fourteenth letter, and then multiply the remaining letters by the square root of ridiculous, the letters left behind spell, "I heart MommyJ." See, he totally loves me too.
I'm letting him pass on my birthday this year, because well, his American Idol contract is keeping him pretty occupied, though I'm pretty sure he would be here if he could. I've already put in an invitation for next year, and I don't really expect to be disappointed.
Sincerely,
MommyJ
PS. If you CAN sing at my birthday party next week, I will totally break up with my new boyfriend. Really... I will.
The new guy:
Forgot to say Happy Happy Birthday to this little guy... 2 years old today. LOVE this baby. Even more than Clay Aiken and Kris Allen combined and multiplied by a million...
