Okay, that was totally unfair snark. I am actually blessed to have a number of awesome peeps who consistently demonstrate their love to me, THROUGHOUT the year, birthday or no.
The second thing you need to know is, the title is a lie. I am going to go through here, and at least attempt to clean up the typos.
Also, the amount of shit you drop onto the counters and floors increases. You might set as a rule of thumb not to handle your grandma's china and archaeological artifacts during this time, and restrict yourself to handling things like pillows, wet towels, penii, and perhaps a packet of crackers. (Though those do make a mess, too. Just sayin'.)
Fourthly (is that a word? It is now) I came to realize, this year, that for decades I have been handling the whole birthday thing ALL WRONG. Trying to avoid any mention of it, go on with life as through it wasn't my birthday... Why not milk this baby for all I it's worth? After all, it's not like I'm still
So, this year, for my birthday, I:
- Spent a sizeable portion of the day on a chaise lounge in the sun chippin' away at my read of Les Misérables.
- Made sure to officially "Like" everyone who wished me a happy birthday on FaceBook.
- Worked on my current WIP. Actually wrote substantial number (for me) of pages!
- Kept the Mai Tai's and wine and margaritas flowing. And yet, due to superior judgment of my alcohol tolerance level (or, possibly, pure dumb luck), am not yet worshiping the Porcelain Goddess. Can I get a woot-woot?
- Did some laundry. (Might be my birthday, but dirty undies wait for no man - or woman.)
- Dreamt/middle of the night texted an old b-f. Results: highly satisfactory.
- Cursed my Kindle for only giving me only 60% of Roni Loren's Still Into You before gagging, but at least retained the wit to recognize prob would be better dealt with when not Under the Influence of 150% rum.
- Texted and FaceBooked all the peeps I have been neglecting for months with an "I love you, man," kind of message (see 150 Proof Rum). Feeling smug satisfaction they will all appreciate my current (drunken) level of sentimentality.
- Chocolate. Oh hell yeah.
- Endlessly replayed the same few albums on iPod as this seemed much easier than selecting something new. Plus, due to strange (150 Proof rum) factors, music all seems SO much more profound than usual. Alan Parsons Project, Peter Matuchniak, and Gekko Project.
- Pondered the unfairness of a universe in which I could fall asleep on a chaise lounge in the sun on Saturday, and my pasty-white, unsunblocked legs, would pick up no additional color whatsoever, while my shoulders and back got sunburned. I mean, WTF?
- Totally bailed on meetings I "should" have attended in order to relax in drunken debauchery of a day devoted to writing and "whatever."
- Enjoyed an extended birthday celeb at my day job, as I requested my cake (Marie Callender, chocolate cheesecake slice o' heaven!) & crap to be pushed back to Monday.
Btw, if anyone is looking for gift ideas for my next birthday... this would be fine. In fact, you don't have to wrap it at all; I know how tricky it is to wrap odd-sized packages. I would be happy to take this one even if it came divested of any wrappings whatsoever. I'm flexible like that.
In fact, it doesn't even need to be my birthday. Any ol' time you've got one of these hanging around, and you're wondering, "Gee, I wish I knew what to do with this ol' extra George Clooney of mine," you can dump it on me.
What kind of things are de rigeur for your own birthday celebrations?