Love, Jimmie

Perhaps this will come as a shock to you as I know I have never mentioned it here, but I’m having a birthday soon.  A doozy – the big four oh.  You’ll be proud.  I didn’t cry at all as I typed that.  I don’t plan on crying on the big day either but as I’m learning lately, my plans almost never turn out the way I planned them.  More to come on that but maybe not today.

I’ve heard rumors that 40 is a great place to be.  I’ve heard rumors that your 40s are the sexy years, and quite frankly, I could use some sexy in my life.  I’m looking forward to new chapters, to new maturity, to more wisdom, definitely to a better job.  And some sexy.  Woo!

I mentioned once that I had my first and only hangover at age 37.  I have no idea why I waited so long but after I experienced it, I wished I had waited 37 more years.  It was not a pleasant experience.  I recall trying to get out of bed and realizing instantly that upright was no place to be.  I recall crawling slowly from my bed to my bathroom and moaning the entire way while my friend laughed hysterically from the sofa where she was experiencing her own hangover.  I recall eyeballing my friends in disbelief when they told me that I really needed food, that food would make me feel better as would a Diet Coke.  I recall that they were indeed correct.  I recall going to the pool that afternoon and I recall that when Dammit Todd came over to join us, I was filled with shame and embarrassment, so much so that I could not even look at him.

See, the night before was my birthday.  And I had made demands of all my friends with which they complied.  Shut Up Marc had to dress as Wolverine.  Miguel had to dance for me for six minutes. April had to make me a jell-o shot birthday cake (with whipped cream).  Billiam had to bring me a store bought present wrapped in birthday paper.  Bootsie just had to attend.  Pee-tah had to be my wingman.  And Dammit Todd had to be my shirtless bartender.  I was really going for a cummerbund and bowtie look but I settled for baby oil, a Sharpie and a shirtless Dammit Todd.  When Dammit Todd came to the pool the next day, I had flashbacks of me rubbing the baby oil all over him the night before and writing MINE across his chest with the Sharpie, which incidentally did not come off in the shower.  I know because he took his shirt off at the pool, too.

HOWEVER, I have grown up now. I am no longer that person who wants those sorts of childish things for her birthday.  This year I’m more mature.  And I’m celebrating with a giant 80s party .   See, totally mature.  You all are invited but only if you come dressed for the part.  I want big hair and lots of black eyeliner.  I want some neon.  I want some jelly bracelets and shoes.  I want white lipstick and George Michael.  I want foofy prom dresses.  And for crying out loud, I want some Billy Idol. Dancing with Myself, woo!

Also, I’ve been working on a list of things I want from you people.  It follows:

Freddie – I’m gonna need a cake from you

Felix – your choice of either a hug (whilst you are wearing yummy cologne) or a painting (done just for me).  Also, I will take both.

Phranke – I get a whole day with you, preferably at a spa

Quan – you need to buy me a GiGi’s cupcake and NOT EAT IT before you give it to me

Martie – I’m gonna need a cake from you

Coach – please fix my broken toilet

Dammit Todd – you are a lucky, lucky man this year.  This year I only want to meet your girlfriend.  I say that because I do not believe she exists.  Why else would it take you so long to introduce us, your two favorite people?  If you do not produce such girlfriend, I require you to be my shirtless bartender, this time with bowtie and cummerbund and black eyeliner and Flock of Seagulls hair. 

Madre – you get a pass because you birthed me, although I will take a cake from you

Daddy-O – I really don’t want to tell you this but you need to get me a new pink pocket knife (story later)

JiJi – I’m gonna need a banana pudding from you

Daddy-O – (because I forgot earlier) a stir fry and some spaghetti (these are to be separate occasions)

Javier – Wolverine sideburns.  You had better already be growing them out. 

The Squirt – I need for you to write something for me

Kindle – lunch, just you and me and possibly Phranke

Lynnette – a pedicure day

Jane – a pedicure day

Woney – a training session or five with you and Tony

Jonquil – a card with a rainbow on it

Aunt Judy – I’m gonna need a cake from you, a red velvet one

I have one final request.  This request is for the anonymous person who read my entry about how I’m overly concerned with running out of toilet paper and sent me this, right to my front door: 

Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!  I love it.  Thank you very, very much.  Anonymous person and other assorted persons who have interest in my well-being, please know that I am inordinately concerned with running out of this now and am making a request for:

• A man, of the Christian variety which means simply that his heart beats for God
• This same man is 6’5” or so and has nice teeth
• This man knows how to fix toilets and such
• This man does not wear old lady cologne
• This man does not live at home with his mother
• This man does not sleep on NASCAR sheets
• This man eschews excessive garlic, onions and coffee
• This man prefers a woman with curves (see above: all the requests for cake)
• This man has nice taste in shoes

I’m pretty sure I saw one of these on Amazon so if any of you are stuck with no ideas for a good birthday present for me, you can take that as a very subtle hint.  Just point, click and buy.  Free delivery is included for orders over fifty bucks. 

P.S. – Jonquil, seriously, thank you for the potty paper.  I truly have the best people in my life.