Remember When Life Began At Forty? What Were They Thinking?

A friend of mind is turning forty and I've been trying to think of what to give her for her birthday. Besides a Coach purse -- so pre-October 2008, and currently out of my tax bracket. I'd like to keep my expenses to $40 or less, so someone suggested forty cups of coffee at 7-11, her favorite caffeine station. Perhaps along with a prescription for an overactive bladder.

Or I could buy her forty lottery tickets. Another good idea. As long as she didn't mind signing a pre-nup to split any winnings over $1000.

I could make her a time capsule with forty things in it. That's one way to get rid of my analog TV with the rabbit ears and the VHS player. And the Twister set. My Zsa Zsa Gabor wigs. I even found a set of false eyelashes I used to wear. [THEY'RE BAA-A-A-CK!] Where's that fondue pot anyway when you finally need it? I could soak a sweaty t-shirt in mud, drive over it a few times, pour beer on it, rub it in oregano, burn a hole or two, and tell her I wore it to Woodstock. Throw in some chunks of asphalt and say they were from the walk on the moon. Finally unload that Blood Sweat & Tears LP. And the Lava lamp. Wait, not the lamp.

I'm open to suggestions. Only 36 hours until the party.