So today is officially my birthday. Another year. Val brought me over a double batch of brownies, a carrot cake (YEAH!) – oh AND I got to see the baby!!! She’s beautiful, but you knew that. And supposedly Paul is taking me to Chinese Buffet tonight. We’ll see. OH – and Val got me a cute card and, not to be outdone, Paul brought me a card HE had bought me – it’s one of those annoying singing cards – with the cast of “Friends” on the front and the card sings “I’ll be there for you.” And Paul signed it “I’ll always be there for you…” Awwwwwww…..isn’t that nice? Yeah, that’s what he WANTS you to think.
Then this morning when I got up he had another card on my computer diesk – it’s the mushy “To My Loving Wife” card with like 40 pages of schlock before you get to the end. Paul likes those sappy cards – makes him feel sensitive. I usually get him the cards with that crabby old lady on the front that say something like “Yeah, I know it’s your special day, come on, let’s get the birthday sex thing over with.”
My mother called me yesterday – but not for my birthday. She’s such a weird old bat, I swear to God. She called me just to chat, I really thought she was calling to say Happy Birthday. Finally, she’s getting ready to hang up and I say – “Well, you’re going to call me tomorrow, right?” And she says “Tomorrow? Why? Was I supposed to call you tomorrow?” And I say “Mom, what’s tomorrow?” And she’s says “Well, tomorrow’s Monday, right?” And I said “No, Mom, what’s tomorrow?” And she says “It’s not Monday, well, fuck, I get all fucking confused. I thought today was Sunday.” I say “Mom, today IS Sunday…” And she says “Well, why the fuck are you trying to confuse me, then? I said tomorrow was Monday.” I say “Mom, what’s the DATE tomorrow?” And she says “Oh, I don’t know. I can’t keep track of that.” Then she looks at the calendar and says “Oh, Luke’s birthday is the 26th.” (Luke is my 3 year old nephew – to turn 4 on the 26th, I guess.). She still didn’t figure out that it was my birthday today. She may before the day is over, but I’m not holding out hope…
But, despite my mother not remember what she was doing on this day umpteen years ago, it’s my birthday – well, it was at exactly 8:13 this morning, Eastern time. So, it’s time to reflect on all the things I was going to do this past year and never got around to. Because I procrastinate and I’m lazy.
1. I never bought a whistle. I want a whistle. For the telemarketers. I finally did wait for the one guy who, whenever I pick up the phone, has a recording that says “This is your final warning that your car warranty has expired. Please stay on the line for important information about our discount rates for homeowners in your area.” Now, number one – I don’t have a car. Why I would need a final warning that my car warranty has expired is beyond me. But why I would need that warning at 7:30 in the fucking morning is just annoying. Finally, I waited for the guy to come on the line rather than my usual thing of hanging up as soon as I picked up the phone to hear the “final warning” message. The real live guy finally gets on the phone and says “Are you interested in hearing about how we can provide discount auto insurance?” And I said “NO I’M NOT – and I’m especially not fucking interested at 7:30 in the fucking morning!!! Dude, I don’t have a car – you are wasting your sales pitch time and you are just annoying me – take me off your fucking list and we’ll both see a rise in our productivity levels. KAY?” He hung up on me. I need a whistle. Because I would have used it.
2. I never did empty out all the boxes in the Harley barn. Not that this was necessarily going to be a “one year” project. But I at least wanted SOME of the boxes empty. Never happened. Of course, that’s probably a good thing because….
3. Another year has gone by without a garage sale. I NEED to have a garage sale. If I could get rid of some of the crap in here, I could do a lot more of number three, above. But it’s a catch 22. The more boxes I empty, the more I need to have a garage sale. The more I need to have a garage sale, the less boxes I can empty. So I do nothing.
4. I didn’t write to Brangelina and ask them to put me on their list of potential adoptees. I mean, how cool would that be? To have a jet setting Mom and Dad who schlepped you all over the world looking for brothers and sisters to bring home with you? No trinkets like snow globes for them, they bring home KIDS. I figure I still have a chance, though, since even when they birth kids, they go to other countries to have them so they can say :”they’re foreign.” I figure they have to get around to getting a kid from the good old USA eventually, and damn it, I want it to be ME.
5. I didn’t make it to the Lizzie Borden house. I really want to go there and spend a night or two. I think that would be awesome. I love “haunted houses”, but they have to be “haunted houses” with a real documented past. I don’t want to stay in some house that someone says “Oh, I hear noises.” Now, if they hear noises and there was a triple homicide in the house, ok, you got me. But I don’t want to stay in some Amityville Horror house because you saw flies on the window, fuck, leave some bananas on my kitchen island long enough and I get flies on the window, too. I want a house with a history.
6. I didn’t get to Mood Fabrics. Damn it. I so want to go to Mood. And I want to just happen to run into Tim Gunn (because you know he just hangs out there, right?) And they even have a close out section- where everything is 75% off. At 75% off, some of their fabric is only $14.00 a yard. Can you fucking imagine?? $14.00 a yard when it’s 75% off?? And here I bitch when Joanne’s puts things on the clearance rack and it’s priced at $2.00 a yard instead of their usual $1.00 and I have to wait for “50% off clearance table items” day. I didn’t spend $14.00 a yard on my wedding dress material. But it really does put Project Runway into perspective. They give the designers $100 to go shopping at Mood. That’s why that shit they makes looks so funky and is such messed up prints. That’s all they can afford is the fucked up prints no one else would buy. Give me $100 to go shopping at Joanne’s for an outfit and I could buy entire bolts of chartreuse and silk.
7. I didn’t teach Milo a single command or trick. Not one. Milo doesn’t even know what the fucking word “Sit” means. I kid you not. You tell Milo sit and he looks at you like “What the fuck are you talking about, Willis?” Every year we watch all the dog shows and I think “Ok, Milo is just as ‘standard’ as those dogs are, he could win a dog show.” But those dogs walk on leashes right next to you, and when you stop, they stop. Milo doesn’t do that. And then we watched :”The Greatest American Dog”, and I thought “My dog is just as great as those dogs”, but once you watch the show, yeah, not so much. Those dogs roll over, play dead, catch frisbees, dance, speak, walk over boards and run mazes. Milo wouldn’t do any of that shit. If you threw a frisbee for Milo to catch, Milo would watch it go by his head and then look at you as if to say “yeah, I’d like to play with that – are you going to go get it for me now that you threw it all the way over there?” Milo has ONE trick – and it’s not even a trick. Every week I go get groceries and I go to the dollar store to buy him a stuffed animal (yes, every week, yes, you should see his toy box….) I bring in about 20 bags (well, less bags now since groceries cost double what they did last year.) But I put them all on the kitchen floor, all 10-20 bags, and Milo will circle the bags, find the dollar store bag without doing anything but looking at them, and pull out his toy from the dollar store bag and run upstairs with it. That’s it. That’s his trick. He doesn’t sit, he doesn’t shake, he doesn’t roll over or catch frisbees, he identifies dollar store bags.
8. I still didn’t call and cancel all these magazine subscriptions I get every week and month. Someone signed my up for a bunch of magazine subscriptions that came in some sort of “package” and I shit you not, I get like 30 magazines a month – and some are doubles. I get magazines no one would EVER read. “Inc” – who the fuck reads “Inc”? Or “Fast Company”? Or “Outdoor Photographer”? I go outside as little as fucking possible, why would I need “Outdoor Photographer?” “Better Homes and Gardens.” I thought this thing folded 50 fucking years ago. “Ladies Home Journal”, “OK” – which is a really bad rip off of “People”, and assorted bullshit like “Sporting News” and “Redbook”. And then half of my telemarketing calls are sales pitches to extend my subscriptions. I told the last guy “EXTEND?? Dude, if you could END them, I’d be eternally fucking grateful.” And don’t get me started on Blender magazine. Which isn’t about kitchen appliances, as you’d think – it’s about music. I get three of those every month. THREE. And I don’t even LIKE Blender and I don’t even want ONE subscription to it
9. I didn’t run for Judge. Or “City Complainer” (and yes, that should be a real office.) Someone needs to be over the shoulders of all those other elected officials to tell them how fucked up and stupid they are, and how this town needs a kick in the ass. Someone needs to be running around bringing the message to the people “THERE’S MORE TO LIFE THAN PRETENDING YOU ARE A REDNECK!!” I didn’t abolish the Redneck Games, or even convince anyone that it’s not such a great idea. I didn’t buy TV commercial time for “Kill a Puppy Day” and then tell people when they complain that I am killing puppies “But, we are doing it for Make A Wish – that makes it all OK, right?” Nope, I didn’t do a single thing to make the town better. Even Val, who now has TWO kids and was pregnant for most of the year and had TWO jobs, managed to hold fundraisers and attend all the town functions, and take the Amish women shopping and support her church and her house and her husband. AND can her own pickles and make me brownies. Fucking little wonder woman, she is. And she makes me tired.
10. I didn’t sort through the yarn and fabric in the sewing room and empty out the boxes of yarn and fabric still in there waiting to be emptied. And more keep coming from the Harley barn. Seems every time Paul opens a box in the Harley barn lately, it ends up being full of fabric or yarn and he has to bring it up here and put it on my sewing table. My 24 foot long sewing table is now covered in boxes that need to be emptied. But I have no room. I need to sort through the yarn already on shelves and fabric that is already stuffed in the cupboards and put some of this shit away. And find space for some of the sewing and knitting magazines (which, unlike the “Sporting News”, I actually want…). I need more bookshelves, but there’s no room for more. I think I just need to take over the master bedroom, which is much bigger than the computer room or the sewing room, and put all my stuff in there. The master bedroom also has the advantage of 15 foot high ceilings with a ledge around the top – how nice would that be for all my little sewing trinkets and antique sewing things? And? The master bedroom is painted PLUM. I’m thinking this might be a plan. Of course, next year I’ll be sitting here saying “I didn’t take over the master bedroom as my sewing room…” Because you know, that just seems like work, and I’m tired. And lazy.
So, if your birthday is coming up – you still have time. Get everything done and I won’t make you list here all the things you were supposed to do, but didn’t.