Yes, yes, today is my Birthday. Number 45, to be exact, and I find that which each passing year I care less and less about the celebration. I have turned down at least two offers of a Birthday Dinner this week. I plan to stay in, watch the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and eat pizza. I have told Tess that a gift is totally unnecessary (and how much do you want to bet that she got one, anyway? Now I have to pretend to be surprised and all that, and I'm a rotten actor). The only concession being made in my Natal Anniversary Austerity Plan is for my seven year old nephew, who will demand to blow out my candles on the cake my sister will no doubt serve up over the weekend.
He still gets excited by birthdays, no matter who's birthday it is. Little kids are great that way.
I, on the other hand, am a grumpy old fart.
Anyhow, I was thinking that if I could have a birthday wish (do people still believe in birthday wishes? Suckers), it would be to have the opportunity to recite a long list of future birthday wishes and have them codified into law. I'm a petty tyrant that way. I figure if the rest of the planet just thought like I did, we'd all get along famously.
Yeah, I guess all that therapy didn't really take, huh?
So, here's a list of things I would want for future birthdays. Take note, Planet Earth:
1. I don't like Birthday Cake. I would much rather have Birthday Pie. And if you're going to make me a Birthday Pie, I would prefer it be one from the following list: Cherry, Lemon, Boston Creme, Dutch Apple. Do not serve me Blueberry pie, which is messy, nor do I want to ever see Rhubarb pie which, despite being delicious, gives me wind something fierce.
2. I think you should get to slap someone you really can't stand on your birthday. I mean really wind up and take a healthy swing that leaves the welty-red impression of your palm and fine fingers across someones cheek. Oh, and for an added sting, that you get to lick your fingers before you smack them. If that's considered too violent, then I will compromise and settle for being able to spit on the person of my choice.
3. It should be a law somewhere that on your Birthday you should be able to get out of any petty misdemeanor: parking ticket, moving violation that didn't involve an impact or blood-alcohol content, littering, public urination, and so forth.I don't particularly want to do any of these things, it's just nice to know that I'll have the option open should whimsy take me there.
4. On your birthday you should get the opportunity to meet anyone you like, and then have five uninterrupted minutes to tell them what you think of them, for good or ill.
5. You should be able to concealed-carry on your birthday, no matter where you are.
6.You should be allowed to kick a Libtard square in the balls on your birthday, even if it means asking a Feminist to hike her skirt or drop her hip waders for easier access, or standing upon a step ladder to get closer to the First Lady's.
7. You should be able to sleep late on your Birthday. Fuck, you should be able to sleep late everyday, but that might get inconvenient.
8. The greatest Birthday Gift Ever would be the opportunity to hunt Libtards on the preserve (i.e. the Berkeley Campus) from the tallest nearby building with one of them new-fangled .50 cal sniper rifles. Since someone will construe this as a sign that I'm some sort of murderous lunatic engaged in a campaign to drum up hatred of Leftards, I will respond by saying that a) I would stop once I've bagged my limit, and b) I don't need to drum up hatred for you -- you do a good enough job of pissing people off all by yourselves.
9. Wouldn't it be great if people like me got to be President for a Day on our Birthdays, and have the ability to do something spectacular that changes the entire fabric of American society, like banning Affirmative Action, arresting every unwashed hippie, or defunding every goddamned diversity project in America? And then get to give a speech where your main point was "Stop being a fucking pansy and go out and go to work, you freeloading douchebags!'
10. On your Birthday, you should be given the opportunity to do one thing that would truly make you happy. In my case, the list would begin with killing my neighbor's pesky cat that dug up the azaleas, and end somewhere around coating Barack Obama in strawberry syrup and agitating the hornet's nest. There should be no consequence to this single action, because, dammit, it's your Birthday!
So, here I sit this evening, awaiting my sausage and peppers pizza, hoisting my Caffeine-free Pepsi, hoping seriously that the Caps beat the Rangers (I'm a Devils fan, see), secure in the knowledge that later this evening Tess will be wearing something suitably flimsy and easy to remove. I will not have had a party. I will not have had to trifle myself with the unwanted back hair removers and two-for-one-end-of-season-sale sweaters given as gifts. I will not have inconvenienced someone by demanding a cake. I will owe no one anything, and will have no obligation to return any favors to anyone else. I just want a bit of quiet to do as I please, and that's all I've ever asked for on my birthday.
I don't think you could ever ask for more on your birthday.