I’m still decompressing (read: becoming a ball of stress once again) after a surprise* trip to Cape Cod this weekend, courtesy of The Girlfriend and in celebration of my birthday (more on this later). But just like every other time I’ve come back from vacation, it takes a day or two before I feel like myself again. Right now I feel confident, happy and not at all uncomfortable with my sexuality. If this is what normal, relaxed people feel like on a daily basis, I may have to give up blogging and become a prescription drug addict. Short of that happening, the delusions of grandeur will be gone by tomorrow and I’ll be back to my normal, albeit now-26-year-old self.
In the meantime, I woke up this morning to The Girlfriend singing Happy Birthday to me while I was still half-asleep. It was a classic rendition of the Happy Birthday tune, which for The Girlfriend was a departure from the previous nine versions she sang to me over the course of the weekend, including Opera Happy Birthday, The Robot Happy Birthday, Scat Happy Birth, Haiku Happy Birthday and Poem Happy Birthday (“Happy Birthday, Dan / Happy Birthday, man . . .”).
If there’s one thing she’s very good at, it’s fawning all over me on a special occasion. It’s to the point where when I left my apartment this morning, I expected everyone I passed on the street to not only know it was my birthday, but also to stop me, shake my hand and offer their original rendition of a Free-style Rap Happy Birthday or Happy Birthday with a Mouth Full of Food. Needless to say I was a little depressed when I got in the office and all I got was crazy June asking me if I had taken her 2006 (??) calendar, a question that subsequently raised so many questions in my own mind that I just took a sip of my coffee and walked away without saying a word.
And if that’s not enough of a birthday buzz kill, according to the Farmers Almanac, today, my birthday, is a great time to “set posts or pour concrete” and “begin logging.” Unfortunately, it’ not a good day to potty training children, castrate animals, or harvest aboveground vegetables. Not that I was planning on potty training any children, but obviously I wanted to do some harvesting and castrating. Way to ruin a good birthday party, Farmer. This is why the government is taking away your land.
Just to finish off this exercise of “stop enjoying life so much, let’s get back to normal here,” a few historical events, courtesy of The History Channel online, that took place on this day, the day of my birthday:
- In 1885 Canada's transcontinental railway completed, and millions of people worldwide exclaimed, “Finally! Finally I can travel across Canada! I’ve been waiting for so long!”
- 1940 Tacoma Bridge Collapses – The sole casualty of the disaster was a cocker spaniel left in a car, which fell into the Narrows and disappeared beneath the foam. Really, a story for every festive occasion.
- In 1983 a Wisconsin family is brutally murdered. OOOOOK.
- 1913 French novelist Albert Camus is born – author of one of my favorite novels, The Stranger. Good work, Al.
- 1867, Madame “Women Are Smart Too” Curie is born. She goes on to do something famously important but everyone remembers Newton and Einstein instead.
- Dana Plato (1964 – 1999) born. More importantly, Dana Plato died? How did I miss this? She was number four on my Top Five List Of 80’s Sitcom Daughter Crushes just ahead of Tracy Wells from “Mr. Belvedere” and behind #1 Nicole Eggert (“Charles in Charge”) #2 Justine Bateman (“Family Ties”) and #3 Ari “Underdog” Meyers (“Kate and Ally”). (Obviously, that’s not a complete list seeing as how it entirely omits “Just the Ten of Us,” mostly because at one point or another I wanted like four of the seven daughters on that show. And then there’s “My Two Dads,” but can you really count shows that weren’t pantheon shows? Who am I kidding, this topic needs it’s own post. I’m getting woozy just thinking about it.)
- And finally, according to Biography.com, on this day in 1946, Joni Mitchell was born . . . and died! Undoubtedly one of the more impressive music careers spanning a less that 24 hour period. Although I guess that’s not saying much when your competition is Nelson and Right Said Fred.
Back tomorrow with a recounting of the weekend wherein The Girlfriend tries hard to get us lost, tries harder to have our car stolen and merely succeeds in giving me an awesome birthday present.
* I know I said I would never let myself be surprised again, but I don’t consider this one a “surprise” because The Girlfriend called me at 3:00 and said we were going away for the weekend. When I asked her how long she had had this planned she said, “About 15 minutes. Isn’t the internet cool?” So I don’t think you can call it a surprise when the gift giver is as surprised as the gift receiver.