Last year I had the best birthday I’ve ever had. (And that ain’t no hyperbole all right!!) I usually don’t like my birthday. I’m sorry but I am one of those jerks. All the attention makes me nervous. I usually try to turn my birthday into something where my friends and I are just hanging out. You know? I don’t really want them to buy me dinner and pay for my beers and so on. I’d rather just be in the same room with them. Hell, I always want that.
Anyway: My roommate/buddy Tracey made me a chocolate cake, and my other roommate/buddy Laura made me a lavender shooting star cake. Tracey did buy me dinner but it was real good and I didn’t mind only because Tracey is a very sweet person and is incapable of doing wrong as far as I can tell. My friends Rachel and Megan came over and gave me a bottle of wine and . . . a radish, or something, I can’t remember. Then I went with a bunch of people to Missouri Lounge and Megan told us a story about accidentally going to an Insane Clown Posse birthday party. I went to a Finnish bathhouse (twice!) and my best friend told me she loved me. Man! It was so good. It was one of the best days of my whole god dang dumb life, now that I think about it.
I’m sure y’all saw this coming: This year I will be alone (with Dante) in my grandmother’s condo in Virginia across the street from the very hospital where I was born 28 years ago. I am sure it will be raining or snowing. (It has been raining or snowing pretty much every day.) Well, heck, I don’t know. I can’t do anything about that. Just wish I could have another shooting star cake, and another ‘I love you.’ I’m human! I can’t help but want these things.