You are. And that is enough.
Columbus Sailed the Ocean Blue. At least according to an e-mail that I received on Monday, which was Columbus Day. (What a coincidence…) I opted to take a look back into history and discovered that the events of 1842 included:
March 17: Indians land in Ohio, a 12 mile area in Upper Sandusky
August 9: U.S.-Canada border defined by Webster-Ashburton Treaty
December 19: U.S. recognizes independence of Hawaii
If Columbus actually landed on U.S. soil that year, he was waaaaaay behind schedule.
It should read, “Yarrrr, we be hittin’ another snag in the plans, me hearties! Go swab the deck!”
It’s September 19th: Happy “Talk Like a Pirate Day”, everyone!
And wouldn’t you know it, I did. Thankfully, they’ll be replaying the first episode of this season’s Beauty and the Geek again on Thursday, so you’ll have to wait until then for a vaguely amusing review based on what the editors show us plus my personal biases.
I think my reason for missing most of the show is legit: I was having dinner with some family members to celebrate my grandma’s 90th birthday. We decided to meet at 6:00, which meant I missed the last (retelevised) part of the USA v. Nigeria game in the Women’s World Cup; thankfully, the team won 1-0 without me and took the top seed in Group B. “USA! USA! USA!”
. . .
Anyway! Because the restaurant we went to was a buffet and I went back for thirds—salad, main course, ice cream… plus a few cookies and a breadstick for good measure—it took a while to finish and I got home with about 20 minutes of Beauty and the Geek remaining. Damn…
Aside from all that, happy 90th birthday, Grandma! Hope you can make it back for a second plate on your 100th, too.
February 14th. A day of love, a day of passion, a day of sexual frustration. The biggest day of the year for people who sell flowers, chocolate, pink and red cards so bright they make your eyes water even when you’re not looking at them. And also a big day for bars, where people order large quantities of beer, multiple shots of Jagermeister, the occasional glass of water to make sure there’s more than alcohol draining from their systems when they urinate. Yep, there are people who like to celebrate with their loved ones and there are people who want to jump up on tables and cry out, “Fuck Valentine’s Day!”
So I started thinking about it: is one really the loneliest number? Sure, if you’ve got two of something, they can keep each other company. If you’ve got none, then there’s nothing to feel lonely. But isn’t that a limited conception of “one”? I mean, if you’ve got a group of 37,145,982 people, that’s one group. Does that mean the group is lonely? But if another person joins the crowd and it swells to 37,145,983, then everyone’s happy and no longer lonely. Except now there’s one group of… ah, forget it. Fuck Valentine’s Day!
(Aside from all that, if you’re reading this blog entry and want some Shawn love, I’ve got enough to share with everyone. Just don’t expect any flowers.)
I hope you all have/had a joyous ChristmaHanukKwanzaakahs! And regardless of whether you celebrate any of those, I also hope you have yourselves a spiffy New Year.
Peace on earth (and in air and under water and outside the atmosphere), good will toward men (and women and kiddies and kitties and other animals and a few random amoebas as well).
I don’t feel any different than yesterday (aside from being woken up by my uncle singing “Happy Birthday” this morning), but something about round numbers is really appealing to people, I suppose. Plus the price of car insurance goes down when you turn 30. Yay 30!
So here’s a happy birthday story to let you all know how much of a party animal I am. At approximately 2:00pm, October 19th, 1976, I popped out of my mommy’s tummy. My first act was screaming my damn fool head off (though technically, it did remain attached to the rest of my body). My second act was to show my gratitude to the doctor for removing me from the warm and comfy place where I had been residing: I pissed all over him. My third act, just in case the doctor didn’t realize just how thankful I was, was to take a dump on his scrubs. Thus, my family quickly discovered that all three ends worked.
Now, 30 years later, I have a little more self-restraint. I’ve developed an indoor voice and I’m potty-trained (for the most part), so I found out that they’re still functioning properly this morning without as much fanfare. However, when my uncle came to my room singing “Happy Birthday” and tried to drag me out of bed, thus removing me from the warm and comfy place where I had been residing…
