Yes that is my baby picture. I hate it each year when some overly caffeinated power mad office party organizer solicits pictures for the dreaded "Guess the Co-Worker's Baby Picture Contest." I always win (or lose) since everyone immediately guesses mine. My co-workers pictures all seem to be in color and posed with Barney, various Teletubbies, Chuckie Cheese, or Starr Jones. I seem to to have the only baby picture originally drawn with charcoal on the wall of a cave somewhere in Southern Indiana.
So if baby pictures are appearing here, in the great blog tradition, it must be MY BIRTHDAY!
Once again it is Mid Atlantic Leather weekend (MAL) weekend here and the MLK holiday which is always conveniently close to MY BIRTHDAY. Normally I prefer that not much of a fuss be made over it. I'm one of those recovering Methodists who think elaborate birthday celebrations should end about the time you get your first set of car keys from Jesus. It's not that I fear getting older; you couldn't pay me enough to be in my 20s again. I just think that birthday parties (especially with presents) for adults are silly. Sorry. But please feel free to send me cash if you feel obligated.
Cards are fine, small dinners or lunches are great, and 2:00 am booty calls are awesome (call my cell before ringing my doorbell and if you don't remember the exact address ask the cab driver). Two good friends sent me this very creative and sweet rhyming letter this year explaining how with all the activities going on this weekend, they would like to prepare a home cooked meal of my choosing next weekend.
This is not to say that I'm not working the MY BIRTHDAY angle during MAL, endlessly sending out Instant Messages to strangers saying something subtle like "Hey hope you are having a good time at MAL. It is MY BIRTHDAY! What is your room number?"
I'll have to provide further updates on the success of the MY BIRTHDAY marketing campaign but right now I am tired. And I feel just a little bit old.
Happy Birthday to me! Thanks Herb Sr and Pug for doing "it" at least once. (I figure my older sister has got to be adopted by the way but that's an entry for another day).