Today, AK turns 40. Yes, 40. He’s an old fart, but a beloved one.
AK and I met ten years ago when he moved to SLC to work at the company I where I was employed. I was soon to become his work wife, much to his wife Mrs. AK’s dismay. Not because she was jealous, but because she felt sorry for me. The dude cannot remember where she keeps paper towels. I don’t live with them, but I can tell you where they are kept–IN THE SAME FUCKING SPOT FOR 8 YEARS, that’s where. He also cannot remember that I am in charge of everyone and everything, and he is not. He’s very easily confused. Obviously.
AK and I shared an office for a few years and it was then he became the older brother I never had. He teased me mercilessly for things that should not matter. Who cares if I add a ‘s’ to street names? Foothill(s) Blvd. is in the FOOTHILLS it should have an ‘s’. He also forced me to listen to Toad the Wet Sprocket all day, every day. And did you hear? The band broke up in 1998.
AK and his family quickly became some of my favorite people, and not just because they fed me and kept me in wine. I couldn’t ask for better, more supportive friend in my life than AK. I can’t imagine a life without him, and luckily I don’t have to. We’ve been through a lot together, and I wouldn’t be the person I am without his influence in my life. I love him for that.
Happy Birthday AK! I’m sorry you’re soooooo old, but it could be worse… you could be RLO.