I'm feelin' thankful for the small things today.
It's that time of year again.
I look forward to it with gleeful anticipation, only to be defeated in every expectation year after year. But like a defender of democracy standing up to Ivan Drago, I keep on tickin' baby. It never deters me from excitement the next year. It's my birthday, and I love it.
Of course, I'm turning one year older than I turned last year. But I still haven't yet reached that all-special milestone. The one that signals the change from "wow, he's still a young kid" to "why isn't he married and why doesn't he have children?" But I'm closing in on the milestone. One year at a time.
My last really really fun birthday was my 19th. Friends at college threw me a suprise kinda' thing. And, remarkably, it was a genuine surprise. We listened to a little bit of Bootsy Collins' New Rubber Band's "Blasters of the Universe", and a good time was had by all. That was freshman year. The remaining years were pretty much nondescript. My birthday fell on odd days. Insofar as I remember them.
After college things took a turn for the worse. In Boston, my 23rd - Kyra declares that she doesn't want to stay together after I've completed my Master's. My 24th - a broke friend from high school comes into town and goes to the bathroom during the check for dinner - over a hundred bucks. My 25th - Kyra abandons my plans to go out to dinner to go drink cheap beer without me at, I'm not shitting you, the local VFW post. My 26th - my parents complete their divorce. My 27th - after an extremely cheap dinner of Indian food, Kyra informs me that she's thinking seriously about divorcing.
That's pretty much the roundup. My 28th was pleasant, but nothing special. Squash soup and the West Wing.
Dammit, this year's gonna be cool. I'm skipping class, going used book and record shopping, and then having a few drinks with friends down at Lancer's. I'm going to have a nice lunch and have some Dale time. Would that Karaoke was involved, but alas, that's the problem with having a Birthday on a Thursday.
The beauty part is, of course, that Friday is a university holiday. Sleepin' in. And steppin' out.
I look forward to it with gleeful anticipation, only to be defeated in every expectation year after year. But like a defender of democracy standing up to Ivan Drago, I keep on tickin' baby. It never deters me from excitement the next year. It's my birthday, and I love it.
Of course, I'm turning one year older than I turned last year. But I still haven't yet reached that all-special milestone. The one that signals the change from "wow, he's still a young kid" to "why isn't he married and why doesn't he have children?" But I'm closing in on the milestone. One year at a time.
My last really really fun birthday was my 19th. Friends at college threw me a suprise kinda' thing. And, remarkably, it was a genuine surprise. We listened to a little bit of Bootsy Collins' New Rubber Band's "Blasters of the Universe", and a good time was had by all. That was freshman year. The remaining years were pretty much nondescript. My birthday fell on odd days. Insofar as I remember them.
After college things took a turn for the worse. In Boston, my 23rd - Kyra declares that she doesn't want to stay together after I've completed my Master's. My 24th - a broke friend from high school comes into town and goes to the bathroom during the check for dinner - over a hundred bucks. My 25th - Kyra abandons my plans to go out to dinner to go drink cheap beer without me at, I'm not shitting you, the local VFW post. My 26th - my parents complete their divorce. My 27th - after an extremely cheap dinner of Indian food, Kyra informs me that she's thinking seriously about divorcing.
That's pretty much the roundup. My 28th was pleasant, but nothing special. Squash soup and the West Wing.
Dammit, this year's gonna be cool. I'm skipping class, going used book and record shopping, and then having a few drinks with friends down at Lancer's. I'm going to have a nice lunch and have some Dale time. Would that Karaoke was involved, but alas, that's the problem with having a Birthday on a Thursday.
The beauty part is, of course, that Friday is a university holiday. Sleepin' in. And steppin' out.
posted by dd0031 at 10:00 PM
4 Comments:
Happy Birthday, Double-D!
hope you had a good one!
cl
That Bootsy party was a great party... Too bad all those people are dead now.
happy birthday jagmaster
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