Michael Jackson (August 29, 1958 - June 25th, 2009)

Michael Jackson died on my birthday.

I'm still taking in the irony of it all. Yesterday, while stuffing my face with fluffy birthday cake, I had a mental run down of all of my favorite birthday cakes over the years. Twenty something years ago, my Michael Jackson Thriller sheet cake took the cake.

It's not something I bragged about, decades later. After years of being plagued by controversy, Michael and my Thriller themed birthday party seemed silly. Something to ridicule rather than reminisce. Like a pre-teen who has outgrown Barney or the Wiggles, I had outgrown Michael and his eccentric lifestyle.

He moonwalked into the hearts of girls everywhere, from Brooke Shields to Lisa-Marie Presley. I know that his music will live on, but now that he's gone I shall choose to remember him with all of the adoration I had as a young, brace-faced fan. I will try my best to forget the molestation charges, the plastic surgeries, the Blanket incident. I will throw it all away and remember the gifted entertainer who sang his heart out with a big fro and his four big brothers.

No one could hold a candle to you Michael.