Late Again, Jake: Friendly Roast

Yo, Jake, birthday rules—this is all in good fun!

You said “be there at seven,” we saved you a plate,

At quarter past nine, you text “walking out the gate.”

Your watch is just jewelry, your calendar’s a myth,

We’ve aged a whole year while you’re parking the fifth.

Happy birthday, Jake, we’re raising up a cheer,

You’re late to your own party, but we’re glad you made it here.

You leave us on read, then you dance like a chair,

But you’re our favorite goof—we wouldn’t trade you anywhere.

We send you a message: “Hey, what’s the plan?”

Two days go by—no sign of the man.

Then you stroll in smiling, “Just saw that text!”

Jake, even carrier pigeons have replied by next.

When the song comes on, you’ve got moves of your own,

Like a wobbly shopping cart searching for home.

You turn left, then right, then invent move number three,

The whole room applauds—mostly for bravery.

Happy birthday, Jake, we’re raising up a cheer,

You’re late to your own party, but we’re glad you made it here.

You leave us on read, then you dance like a chair,

But you’re our favorite goof—we wouldn’t trade you anywhere.

We tease you because you’re family, that’s the deal,

Through every missed text and every dance-floor wheel.

No matter what time you finally appear,

You’ve got your best friends and a birthday beer—

So happy birthday, Jake, keep being you,

We love every laugh and the chaos you do.

Reply when you can, arrive when you’re able,

Just save us a spot at the birthday table.

Love you, buddy—now blow out the cake!