There is nothing more pathetic than a half-inflated Mylar balloon.

Sure it comes with the best intentions:  “Get Well”, “Congratulations”, or even “Over the Hill”… but that is where it ends.  Sometime later, usually around 2am, reality (i.e. gravity and osmosis) take their toll and sucker punch the little fellow.  Instead of soaring high in streams of fluorescent light, the balloon soon takes on the characteristics of a drunken uncle as it lurches and leers in the night.

The next thing you know, it is morning and the balloon is now down to your level.  Whatever ailment or accomplishment has been too much for it, and now it is looking to share your misery.  Failing that it is just happy with knocking over your orange juice.

Or maybe it’s the drugs….