As you have probably heard by now, it is my birthday, and I certainly hope that you have all of your My Birthday shopping done, because the malls are going to be jam-packed. Here in central Ohio, there is actually a Traveller’s Advisory.
And yes, some people like to wait until after My Birthday and take advantage of the After My Birthday Sales, but that’s tacky. You know it’s tacky, and I know it’s tacky. Come on now.
All you have to do is send over some pancakes or fried chicken or both. I’m pretty sure FedEx has a special shipping container for those things. Or alternatively, you could send them by some sort of Something-O-Gram, but not a Strip-O-Gram unless it’s after ten, and to be safe, you might want to make it a dude.
Also, you know, I’ve been registered for the last two months at the Container Store and the Dress Barn (it’s my birthday, I don’t have to explain anything to you) so that you could avoid the big last minute snarl, but if you’ve procrastinated this long then there is nothing I can do for you. Sack up.
Digitally, it’s my first Facebook birthday, so I was really looking forward to everybody saying Happy Birthday to me on my wall. It was every bit as exciting as I hoped it would be, and in fact I spent several hours going through and thanking everybody one at a time. I found myself thinking about how I go about it, when it’s someone else’s birthday – do I post a general Happy Birthday, or do I try to come up with something personal and specific?
That was a new thing for me, thinking about other people. Did you know that there are all kinds of other people out there besides me? I started to wonder if I’d ever said Happy Birthday to anyone at all. Do my children have birthdays? It seems like they probably do.
That made me wonder if every single one of my Facebook friends was going to say happy birthday to me, or if some of them were going to sort of fade, you know like when you’re in a middle school choir concert and a solid one half of your fellow classmates are not singing?
Like the Dalai Lama. He’s supposed to be my Facebook Friend, but he hasn’t said a WORD. Some friend. I know he’s at One with everything, but it takes TWO of us for me to be wished a Happy Birthday by you. It’s not like I’m China, dude – quit being so negative.
Then I also started wondering – do some people have an automated Facebook program that just goes around dropping a generic birthday greeting on whoever’s birthday page it is? Somehow that wouldn’t be as meaningful to me as it is when you click the prompt on your homepage and type it out with buttons. If I find out folks were doing that I’m going to click on my webcam while I weep about it and pound on my desk, then I’m going to post the video on your Facebook page. Feel my wrath!
Also a Wife Problem develops: These are all women, practically, every single one of them! Who are all these women? Like there’s a bunch of dudes hanging around on Facebook – give me a break.
Fortunately, the Wife’s not too Facebook literate. I just said, no, sweetheart those are transvestites, it’s cool. She squints at the screen. All right then, she says. This from a woman who keeps running off to South America like Mark Sanford, and who switched her relationship status from married to “In An Open Relationship” when she was pissed at me four months ago, and never switched it back.
I was sitting in bar when she did that, which I think is what she was pissed about. I clicked “like,” having no idea there was any kind of problem – really I think I had forgotten my name and where I lived and who my wife was in the first place. But you can bet your ass I didn’t screw around with my own relationship status.
Facebook is good for making you feel like you are having a big party when you are really sitting there by yourself in workout pants stalling until there’s no more time to workout, especially if you are wearing one of those beer hats with two straws and listening to the Animal House soundtrack.
What I tried to do this year was focus not on the joy and well-wishing from everyone, but instead on the bitterness and spite – that’s kind of my thing. I was bitter because, here in the real world, what had my own family given me? Love and presents and adoration and a steak dinner? Well, sure. They’re awesome, and I suck – are you happy now?
Well, I am. Thanks everybody for the birthday wishes, unless you didn’t send any. And if you didn’t there’s still time.
PS – Popeye’s doesn’t count as fried chicken. Popeye’s a cartoon, don’t be silly.