This Is 33


People have asked me what exciting things I will be doing to celebrate my 33rd birthday. Whenever I said, “Nothing at all,” a frown would begin to furrow from the edges of their lips as if somehow my lack of any life is very upsetting to him/her.

So instead I would say something like, “I am going to buy tires, schlep my grandmother around and do laundry.” It’s a more truthful and detailed answer than, “Nothing,” but that same type of frown would emerge from their lips.

To which here is a thought: if you are so disappointed that my lack of doing anything is such a problem, then you remedy it. You throw me a party or something. I’ll partake. I have no problems in partaking whatever you have to offer. But I’m not going to waste my energy on a day when, frankly, I’d rather slit my throat and bleed out in a most public matter.

However I am excited about one thing, though not quite like Tim Tebow. (In other words, I’m genuinely excited, not public-relations excited.)

I got a mention in Tony Pierce’s busblog! That in reality has me tickled pink.

Last night I didn’t eat dinner, fell asleep at 11:30 p.m., woke up just past midnight, posted, “Fuck this,” on Facebook and fell asleep for good after that.

I just got tires for my car and am waiting for them to get installed. I will then schlep my grandmother around on appointments and do my laundry. I was intending on looking for birthday sex, but I’m really not in the mood. However, in the same sentiment as above, if birthday sex were to present itself to me I would not turn it down.

Fuck this.