Dear Sister

Dear Sister,

I'm on a good writing hiatus. I haven't been able to write anything good for months now. But I feel that I have to give it a go for your birthday.

I'm physically tired, mentally dead and artistically gone, so, don't expect much.

OK, I seriously can't do it.

Let me do this, instead. I'll take one line from each of the songs that appeared on Michael Jackson's Number One album according to the order they appear to convey a birthday message. Or some jumbled-up lines that have no meaning. Michael Jackson because I know you love him, that particular album because that's the only album that I'm willing to listen to on repeat to find good entries for this gift.

Keep on with the force - Don't stop!

Don't try to fight it!

For forty days and for forty nights,

You wanna stay alive, better do what you can.

The funk of forty thousand years 

Is just an apple

And angels sing,

So, listen up!

Go on, girl!

That's so carefree!

Okay, I want everybody to clear the area right now,

girl, when the goin' gets mean! 

Everyday I sit and ask myself,

"Is there a time

to know that woman?"

You rock my world, you know you did.

Break of dawn, girl, you've got to understand:

I can't stop lovin' you!

So, that's my crappy gift. I know, I know, I owe you a better one.

Since that sucks so much, I'll post a badly photoshopped pic here:

No, I don't have boobs nor cleavage. This is just a picture of my sister with some random friend of hers that was left on the digicam she gave me. I added my head there in case you missed it.

Happy Birthday, Sis.

P.S: You must acknowledge that it's damn hard not to sound incestuous sebab half of MJ's number one hits are about sex.