A Small Victory: when i say happy, you say birthday!

when i say happy, you say birthday!

Happy Birthday, DJ!

DJ is: smart, funny, sweet, empathetic, a perfectionist, short-tempered, a good reader, ambidexterous, manipulative, sympathetic, affectionate, emotional, full of energy, always the best baseball player on his team, a very picky eater, obssesive, a video game addict, a stellar recorder player, quiet and shy in school, loud and obnoxious at home, appreciative, cuddly, handsome, interesting, and my son. Today he is 9 years old and most importantly, to him at least, he is now the proud owner of a Playstation 2.

So where did those 9 years go? Was it that long ago that I was strapped down to a hospital bed screaming for an epidural and kicking anyone that came near me?

I gave birth to DJ in the evening. I was tired. I was ugly. I told everyone to please visit me the next day, I just wanted to sleep. So they peeked at the little red-faced baby who looked somewhat like ET, and they went home, promising to return the next day. But you know what? The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. And nobody came to see me, except for my best friend Barbara who brought me McDonald's and ice cream and stayed to watch the game with me, because she felt so bad that I had been abandoned by everyone, including my husband at the time. But that's ok, because the joke was on them. It was the worst Super Bowl in the history of time. The Cowboys beat the Bills 52- 17 and I laughed and laughed at the family members who spent money to sit in a bar and watch that crap when they could have been hanging out with me and the newborn DJ, eating ice cream and laughing at the Bills.

But we weren't talking about me, were we? This is about DJ. Happy Birthday, DJ. Now go finish your homework.

Day 2 of the great smokeout and I can see this one is headed in the same direction as yesterday. I woke up from bizarre dreams (where Wayne Brady was directing traffic and he had a raging hard on), only to realize my edginess has not subsided. I want to have a good day. I need to have a less stressful day. But I know what's going to happen. I am going to get pissed off about the coffee today. I am going to finally go on a bloody rampage in regards to the fact that at least 5 people a day, the same people every day, come in my office and drink my coffee and use my sugar and milk and cups and never, ever ever offer to contribute anything towards the purchase of any of the items they use daily. I've had it. It used to be just one guy (remember my Mr. Coffee Guy rants?) but he must have spread the word about my supposed caffeine generosity because it's five people now. I will no longer stand by while my coffee resources are depleted by those unwilling to drop at least a fucking quarter on my desk in gratitude. It's not the money. It's the principle.

Must control spork of death. Must not kill coworkers. Must remain calm.

Oh yea, I was saying, Happy, Birthday DJ. And happy birthday to that other odd yet endearing Aquarian, Mr. Davezilla.

Added shortly thereafter: I AM ADORED! That's right. Who's bad? Uh huh. Jerwin is rockin my world today, because he put me in his little adored box, proving once again that I am loved by gay males everywhere. Damn skippy I'm proud of that.

A Small Victory

when i say happy, you say birthday!

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