It's my 36TH birthday, so I'll self-indulge if I want to....
I am 36. Happy birthday to ME!! WELL...it's 3:30am and I really don't feel like writing a book, so i'll just write a bit. Twas a relatively uneventful day. Woke late. FLOORED by the avalanche of Facebook love...probably 60ish well-wishes, at least. Yes, i'll count at some point. The Hungarian even wrote from an undisclosed location in Mexico! Bless her heart. Nice long walk in nice 40ish, sunny weather. Humorously rushed pizza/mozz sticks dinner, presents & the usual Carvel cake at the parents'. Put some Foo to my Ipod. Home by 10ish.
But I wasn't done. I wanted more. I wanted to drink solo at a bar for the first time...and it didn't happen, despite a valiant effort. I left at 12:45am and roamed Hoboken on foot & in car. NOTHING had the right atmosphere. Fuck! Still enjoyed goin out, though. And I think I saw the start of a water main break across from where I first parked the car...water should NOT have been bubbling up from under a car and cascading down the street. I, um, moved the car to another spot. It was fun being out...SEEING people out at 1:30am on a late winter Thursday. You miss so much if you just sit in your house. Anyway, so I came home and had a Sam Adams White Ale that the bro gave me and plopped a single candle I swiped into yet another piece of Carvel cake, doused the lights and wished myself a happy birthday all over again. Rather soothing, it was, the single candle flickering in the dead of night. And THEN...
Well wasn't THIS interesting. I'd also enjoyed a Dipshit-free night, SURE he'd gone again to Philly to visit the girl. But, wait! Was that someone SCREAMING briefly out front at 3am? Befuddled, I dashed to the window. Nothing. WTF?! THEN I hear a door downstairs and am even MORE confused. NO ONE would be screaming OR awake at this hour...well, normally. Like, EVER. Then more silence. And THEN...LOUD footsteps coming up the stairs. Are you KIDDING me? Motherfucker has not come home at 3am in LITERALLY more than a year, and NEVER on a weeknight. And THEN his phone fucking rings in the hall as if he wasn't loud enough. The hall light was out and he was fumbling with keys, so I let him in. He's bleary-eyed, barely speaks to me, and stumbles away as I enter the bathroom. When I come out, his bedroom door's still open and he's already passed out. ?!?!?!?! And WHAT was the fucking screaming???? Yet again he justifies my deeming him a moron. So I'm pissed he's here, but not THAT pissed...day's about over. I'm PRETTY sure he'll be off to Philly tomorrow. But the whole episode was/is very bizarre.
OK, 4am. Rambled more than I'd hoped. I'm out of birthday analysis...for now. A good day, though. Appreciative & grateful. May I have many more!
But I wasn't done. I wanted more. I wanted to drink solo at a bar for the first time...and it didn't happen, despite a valiant effort. I left at 12:45am and roamed Hoboken on foot & in car. NOTHING had the right atmosphere. Fuck! Still enjoyed goin out, though. And I think I saw the start of a water main break across from where I first parked the car...water should NOT have been bubbling up from under a car and cascading down the street. I, um, moved the car to another spot. It was fun being out...SEEING people out at 1:30am on a late winter Thursday. You miss so much if you just sit in your house. Anyway, so I came home and had a Sam Adams White Ale that the bro gave me and plopped a single candle I swiped into yet another piece of Carvel cake, doused the lights and wished myself a happy birthday all over again. Rather soothing, it was, the single candle flickering in the dead of night. And THEN...
Well wasn't THIS interesting. I'd also enjoyed a Dipshit-free night, SURE he'd gone again to Philly to visit the girl. But, wait! Was that someone SCREAMING briefly out front at 3am? Befuddled, I dashed to the window. Nothing. WTF?! THEN I hear a door downstairs and am even MORE confused. NO ONE would be screaming OR awake at this hour...well, normally. Like, EVER. Then more silence. And THEN...LOUD footsteps coming up the stairs. Are you KIDDING me? Motherfucker has not come home at 3am in LITERALLY more than a year, and NEVER on a weeknight. And THEN his phone fucking rings in the hall as if he wasn't loud enough. The hall light was out and he was fumbling with keys, so I let him in. He's bleary-eyed, barely speaks to me, and stumbles away as I enter the bathroom. When I come out, his bedroom door's still open and he's already passed out. ?!?!?!?! And WHAT was the fucking screaming???? Yet again he justifies my deeming him a moron. So I'm pissed he's here, but not THAT pissed...day's about over. I'm PRETTY sure he'll be off to Philly tomorrow. But the whole episode was/is very bizarre.
OK, 4am. Rambled more than I'd hoped. I'm out of birthday analysis...for now. A good day, though. Appreciative & grateful. May I have many more!
posted by Gregoire at 11:46 PM
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