The Un-Birthday

09 January 2011 

487

R. Linda:

So there I was the unwitting subject and victim of an un-birthday party. Yes, that was the last year that said: I, in good conscience, COULD NOT celebrate one more 30th birthday party for myself. What was my little family to do? I am calling off the first birthday of the year. No celebration? No cake? No presents? No silly insulting cards? No wrapping paper? No noisemakers? No cleanup? Well, the last was the only GOOD thing about calling off any future birthday celebrations or torturous moments where people sing out of tune at me.

But it wasn't to be. The three miscreants had somehow got their heads together while I was chasing Mitt Romney around for an interview. They decided among themselves, that if I wasn't going to have a birthday party they were going to give me an un-birthday party. What is an un-birthday party? Hell if I know. It seems very much like a birthday-birthday party but given not on THE day of the real birthday. The only big difference, besides not being THE day of me real birthday was, that I didn't know about it. I was caught off guard. But they managed to give it away at the last moment because the three of THEM became paranoid over their big secret bash for moi and thought I KNEW about it. I didn't. I swear I had not a clue.

What happened was that Lois, me flasher neighbour came over with a HEAVY gift for me. I don't know why she does this, but every year she buys me something I have absolutely no use for. Once she bought me an old vinyl album of Irish music because I am Irish. I have no record player for such and told her so, but no, the beat-up old album remained. Then there was the time she bought me a book. I hadn't been home at the time, but there was a note on it that said, "I think you'll enjoy reading this." It was falling apart, out of its binding, book on some Irish pub in Dublin, accounts of monies earned or not, throughout the 1800s. OK. What I was supposed to do with THAT ancient information? I had no clue. I called her up and said, "Lois you need to come get this book, It's falling apart and I can see it is very old. I don't want to handle it for ruining the thing." She said, "Oh no silly, that book is for YOU, for your birthday, things Irish and all." YUP. I be a magnet for old Irish "things."

There I was Saturday getting me notes together for the debate that night. In breezed Lois with a goody bag of coloured tissue paper and she heaved it in me lap. I felt like the dad in A Christmas Story when the wife heaves the wrapped bowling ball into his lap. Well, whatever it was was very heavy. I pulled it out of the bag to get it off me. She had bought me a bust of Shakespeare. Yup, she did. And why? Because I write. See below.

Poor forlorn Wills -- now residing at me domicile

Lois found the bard whiling away his shelf life in an antique store. Yes, she did. He was among the Victorian dolls and she felt sorry for him. Bear with me on this, I know and I have said many a time, she is crazy. Anyway, once she got him home she didn't know what to do with him. So who else would give him a good warm home but the neighbour below her, that would be ME. Anyway, she asked me what I was doing for my birthday and instead of having to explain why I wasn't celebrating it, I told her (yes, I lied) me little family was going to the British Pub for a birthday repast. That was it. And THAT was overheard by the wife coming into the room. She had booked a table and decided right then and there that I KNEW all about it. I didn't! I swear I didn't. She didn't believe me.

Anyway, last night I got this phone call from the British place confirming our reservations. Tonya was in the shower so I HAD to take the call. I thought it unusual, they don't usually do that, but well, OK. I then knew for sure I should get meself dressed and get ready which I did. What I really wanted was pizza, all day long I had a craving for a tomato pie and voiced it. But apparently, that fell on deaf ears and well, what could I do? So after a while she comes in, all showered and dressed and I tell her the reservations were confirmed. I had this sneer on me face that once again I had outwitted her, well sort of accidentally. She sighed and said, "Well, there's nothing to do then but to get going." And we did, we got the kiddos and drove all the way to the pub. There we met three friends who were outside waiting, and I did wonder why they weren't inside, but then thought, oh they were waiting for the guest of honour. How special.

So I go in first and the bartender says to me, "It's drinks mate, we don't serve dinner on Sunday night." I was confused. I was about to open me gob and say, "But you called me about reservations. Was tonight?" But I didn't get that far because everyone behind me started laughing the joke was on ME! For being a smartyarse. Yes, they thought to drive all that way for a joke!

We ended up back at me abode with pizza. Yes, it was all planned out, if I wanted pizza I was getting pizza and I did! Not only did I get to enjoy the Italian wonder dish, but I was also subject to the most unusual birthday cake EVER. It was a snowman cake. After me December 23 story I'm Still Feeling the Chill, which had to do with me ending up a snowman at YOUR house, a cake was made to celebrate me time as a snowman. Yes, these people have no lives, just me blog. But that isn't the best part. There were a few more snowmen on that cake each representing a person in the room. In true form, the birthday song was sung in typical off-key fashion, with me trying to keep a smile on me face and not a look of pain from the pounding me ears were being subjected to. After blowing out the candles to keep the house from burning down, I cut into it to find it was a chocolate cake with orange buttercream filling. Um um good! I like chocolate with orange juice, get that sweet fix along with some vitamin C. Here have a look.

Me Birthday Cake

In sitting back with the strange but bizarre feeling of diabetic shock, a real reality, we talked about silliness to get our minds off the cake. I noted to the group in general that Weasil had left his scarf here on his visit before last and on his last visit he left a jacket. "I think he's subtly moving in, Tonya," to which she almost spit her coffee out at the horror of the thought. "No, we will put that stuff on eBay," she said recovering from a bout of choking. We got off the subject fast before she really did get a good choke going.

My friend Rod and I joined a rec basketball league last winter and this winter we re-signed up. We had one friend, a guy named Mason who was also a good friend, who signed up for a "better" team and we all forgot to tell another friend on our team, John, that Mason wasn't on our team. So last week we were behind and playing Mason's new team. John arrived late, but he got in and each time he got the ball he was throwing OUR ball to Mason, who would score to great shouts of enthusiasm from the opposing team. At first, we weren't sure what was going on with John, but after the other team trounced us, thanks in big part to Mason, we asked him what he was doing on the court.

"What do you mean? Every time I got a ball I sent it over to Mason and he made the shot."

"Yeah well, that's the problem John, Mason isn't on our team."

"Well, ya coulda told me!"

Oh boy. So where was John last night? He was at the Y playing pool hockey. What that is, we have no clue, but there are a bunch of manly women playing that and we think, once again, our misguided friend is hoping to meet a woman and get a date. Good luck to THAT Johnny boy.

Brenda, Rod's wife informed me that on Fox News for the past few nights, they have been showing Killer Whales just out from Boston Harbour. Yup, Orcas not one but a few of them.

"Yeah, every day the whale-watch boats have been going out because the whales have arrived. They are offering bookings. Who knew, huh Gabe?" She said.

"I don't want to see Orcas. Those things are dangerous, probably try to flip the boat." I muttered pissed off that ANY species of whale would show up AFTER the fact.

"I doubt they could flip that boat you were on," Tonya said and she is probably right. But Orcas? I thought they liked warm water? Well, hopefully, Cruella doesn't know about THIS. I don't really want to freeze me balls off on a boat out in south Puget Sound watching Orcas kill something.

While we were sitting in me house, which was a total of nearly four-plus hours, we got no less than ten phone calls from Ron Paul. His organisation actually. We had all come to the conclusion that Mr. Paul's people were pests. I hate to tell you how many phone calls since the primary start of calls we've gotten. This is not unique, as we live in New Hampshire and election season is OPEN. After Mr. Paul, Rick Santorum's people are in second place for pesky. But the Paul people sound like teenagers and when questioned on issues, they have a bit of a time explaining them satisfactorily. It's almost a hobby of Rod's to talk to them and have some fun at their expense. I will be so glad when the primary is over in New Hampshire and we can breathe until the convention.

And for your information bit of moronic things to know regarding campaign callers: We have learned when a campaign caller rings you up and the caller discovers you are voting for their man or woman, you then get roped into the "We would love for you to come to Manchester headquarters and man the phone . . . or stuff envelopes, or address them," And when you don't live near Manchester that can be a true imposition. But they make you feel guilty you aren't doing your fair share. But we know better. Me neighbour down the road taught us all an important lesson. Here it is, when they guilt you into something just say NO. Me neighbour down the road supported Obama last time round, and a call came in and when she felt guilty she couldn't make it to Manchester, she was asked to run up her own mobile phone bill making cold calls. This she declined, and feeling even MORE guilty said, "Look if you can get someone up my way and drop off a sign I'll do that." OH, heavenly day! Great. The next morning she woke up to not one or two signs, but her entire property along the old stone wall (7 acres) to her mailbox had to be something like sixty Obama for President signs. She was so pissed she voted Republican. So we know not to do that. But it wasn't just Obama it's all of them doing it. New Hampshire highways look like the biggest political advert mecca in the nation. You can't see to make a turn for the signs, huge signs, not just those little guys you see flapping in the breeze as the cars whiz by. The other blight is the sign carriers with the "HONK if you're for so and so," they congregate at every turn place you want to make a turn and it's usually slow going. They take the opportunity to bend down and look at you with a thumbs up and a hopeful smile. Oi!

So me un-birthday took place despite me wishes. I will admit it was fun. At the very least it certainly was different and clever.

The last thing that I wanted to share with you is THIS:

As I was driving home, I pulled up to a light behind a car with a goat roaming free in the back. Not a dog, not a cat, no, a goat. Only in New Hampshire!

Gabe
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