Sir Paul McCartney was born on this day, June 18th, in 1942. I know Paul has had at least one facelift in the past ten years (thank you) so he is still looking pretty good. But damn if he wasn’t just the cutest boy in the whole wide world back in 1966, when I was five years old and wanted to marry him and join The Beatles (I was an ambitious youngster). While I am still a teeny bit bitter over the fact that he would choose to marry a piece of gold-digging trash like Heather Mills when I had been waiting for him to be available again for most of my life (and I’m pretty sure I was single at the time), I want Paul to know that if he is unhappy with his current love-interest, I am available, baggage-free, know the lyrics to every Beatles’ song and am willing to relocate. Happy Birthday, Paul!