Today is my birthday, which is always a big day at my house. I get the kids up early – around five thirty or so, and give them very specific instructions about how I want my breakfast in bed served. Then I retire back to my boudoir and let them figure out what a frittata is. The reason I get them up so early is because it takes them hours to get the order right, which means I have to keep sending them back downstairs to do it over and over and over until it’s perfect. They never did quite nail the hollandaise sauce, but I finally got so antsy around two o’clock this afternoon that I told them to just fucking forget it.
We were going to go whale watching today but the weather seemed dicey so we decided to hold off on that until later this week when it will be closer to my wife’s birthday than to mine. Our birthdays are four days apart, which sucks because I am always stressing out about her special day instead of enjoying my own. Because I want to make her day as amazing as possible (slight exaggeration regarding my intentions).
Instead I spent the day quietly at home doing important, important work. That work largely consisted of Twittering and napping. I am also reading a great William Gibson book called “Pattern Recognition.” Plus, I helped the wife hang curtains and yelled at the kids out of instinct even though they weren’t doing anything wrong.
Tonight we are going out for tapas, which is a Spanish word meaning “over-priced.” Then we’re off to see a movie. It was a toss-up between “The Hangover” and “The Hurt Locker.” Did I want to spend my birthday in laughter or lamenting dead soldiers? We decided to go with the lighter fare; “The Hurt Locker” just doesn’t have the same post-movie BJ potential. Of course, when you’ve been married for ten (almost eleven) years, even an instructional BJ video featuring Megan Fox sucking off Antonio Sabato Jr. wouldn’t have much post-movie BJ potential.
Anyway, it should be a fun night out and thank you to everybody who wished me a happy birthday. As I’ve said before, every birthday brings me one year closer to when I am cryogenically frozen and eventually reconstituted as a lethal cyborg.