What Happens on a Birthday?

After a restless night of trying to decide if it's actually safe to do anything on my Birthday, I am awaken by an angry cat sticking his poisoned fangs into my scalp. Seems it doesn't really matter what day it is, a cats gotta eat.

I figure lets see all the email benedictions I probably got! Yeah, sure, I don't usually receive any personal correspondence, but it's a birthday! And, I'm actually a little positive about this one. Sure, Heather doesn't want to be my friend anymore, even after I made sure she had the best Birthday she could possibly have. Sure, I torpedoed my own expectations as to not get disappointed (and ironically, I wasn't disappointed! How does THAT work, eh?). Sure I didn't expect any gifts or cards or cake, because of the global paper and foodstuffs shortages after the season finale of "Hells Kitchen". But I'm awkwardly positive that something might happily surprise me.

My first email? "Flush 20 pounds of excess out of your colon". How thoughtful!

The only birthday card i got was this one from Pepsi. I quite like the KatHead version, actually.

So I know the few people at my work wants me to meet them for drinks at Applebees later that evening, and I know that Christina will need a ride, so I waste my day away washing my car and driving around town. Now that I think about it, I think I was trying to defy my legacy of motor vehicles and special days. Around three o' clock, my phone rings, and I am MORE than excited! Someone is calling me today to wish me a Happy Birthday!! Is it my family? Is it my friends? Is it going to be a grand day? I snap open the phone and almost yell enthusiastically a "Hello?"

And I hear the voice of Clint Eastwood who just swallowed some razor blades and a bottle brush.

"ugh..er...hello? ...Mike? ...I just woke up..." my god....that's Christina?

It seems she was out all last night with her friends and went to two bars getting drunk. She's a bit hung over, and she's going back to sleep to see if her head will settle. I'm to call her at 4pm to wake her. Well, the birthday is starting out with some texture, isn't it?

So, I dress up very nice and shave and clip and comb and delouse. I'm brilliant! And i text Christina who gives the go-ahead for a pickup. She'll meet me in a 711 parking lot, which is a good thing if I need some rolling papers, a seven dollar can of ravioli, or a tube stake cheeseburger in a flat second. we then travel to Applebees, and the car is unusually quiet. I'm guessing she's a bit dehydrated. But she did have the strength to tell me that she needs to be home by 8pm to possibly receive a phone call from Ron, her "boyfriend" who's on day 14 of a 70 day jail time session.

Let me tell you this: I have found that nothing is much more annoying than those Sidekick phones. All the evening from the car to the restaurant, Christina would whip out her sidekick and flip about the screen to see if anyone would call. She'd sometimes thumb type a massive message back to some anonymous person.

As soon as we arrive, she calls to see where everyone is at. They're going to be a hour or so late. Meantime, Christina is producing that damn Sidekick out of midair every few minutes. I'm just sitting there with nothing to say and feeling very alone. At one point Christina excuses herself and retreats outside for a smoke and a texting session.

the waiter comes up and starts to clear the table of all the silverware except for my own, and I say that there are six people showing up. Just then I see how pathetic i must look, all dressed up and sharing a big table with my imaginary friends. He gives me a look like, "of course you are, sir..." and goes off...just as Christina comes back.

"Did you order drinks?" Well, no I didn't

"We need to order drinks and food now while it's happy hour!" And she attempts to yell across the restaurant they we need service here. She orders two drinks as to save time. A bit of the hair of the dog, methinks. God, why do I even hang with her? It's like traveling with a boozy pirate.

Everyone starts to arrive, and Christina needs to leave now, as it's almost time for "The Ron Might Call from the Bighouse Show". She calls her mom to pick her up, it seems she planned this long before my actual "party", as her mom is there and awaiting for her outside. Now that's service. We have Kathy arrive, and I never knew how much that lady can knock back! She orders one drink, only to declare it isn't strong enough, and gets another one that's enough to make a hobo go blind! She orders two!

Arlene, my co-worker manager, arrives, but says she can't stay longer than one drink and some food to go. Yesterday, I asked Chris if she would show up. Who's Chris, you might ask? She's someone new at work who I find actually truely fascinating. I don't quite get a handle on her yet, but it's clear to me that it'll be interesting to find out eventually, and so far, she'd be the only person that would've actually talked to me here, and not two-fist a drink first... I ask Arlene if she's coming too.

Arlene kicks back her Manhattan, "Oh, she had a better offer." My heart sunk as I see everyone devour the appetizers. I don't blame Chris, as she told me later, that her friends were awaiting for her outside. It would have been cool, that's all.

Finally, as the waiter arrives to dish out the bill, Kathy speaks up, "It's Mikes Birthday. What do you guys do for that? Something free? A cake with candles? You sing happy Birthday?" At this point, I'd even go for what happened last year.

The waiter gave a squinty look, "Uh, we don't have candles due to fire regulations..."

"Well, do you sing happy birthday?"

"Um...no we don't..."

"Jesus...what do you have for a treat for him?"

My "treat" was a simple glass of vanilla Ice Cream and a straw.

I go home, make myself a swanson dinner and watch TV with the cat poking at the potatoes in the pocket of the black plastic tray.

And I think to myself, well, I didn't die, crap my pants, get set on fire, have a girlfriend cheat on me or brake up, smash up my car... And I'm having a nice warm dinner with my furry friend...

It wasn't such a bad day after all.