Cake, It's Not Just A Band

Old Boss:

Happy Birthday!!!

Now you can throw that fake id away!!

Happy Happy Joy Joy!!

Later

Robin:

THANKS!!!!!!!

I am a fabulous 26 today. Please note that I will be 26 next year as well. I’m thinking in 2009 I’ll move up to 27.

Old Boss:

Now that you determine the feasibility of programs and programming…What fraction is that? 26 after 26 years, then 26 after 27 years, then 26 after 29 years? Ummmm…..

Robin:

I feel like it would be kind of improper to share that information with you. I mean, of course I know the answer but we should really be more cognizant of company security. We can’t have just everybody running around with that kind of answer.

Old Boss:

Robin: Hi! What’s your name?

Fence: Hi! My name is Fence

Robin: Fence, nice to meet you!

Fence: Nice to meet you too! Now that you’re a <job title deleted, dur>, I’m sure that you need to move to the other side. Here is a gate for you to walk very easily to the other side so that you can take a new stance on issues!

Robin: Why that is so very nice of you, Fence! Of course, I need to be on the other side.

________________________________________________________________________

Today is my birthday and truly, it could not be going any better. I think the conglomeration of previous bad birthdays has given me new appreciation for the ones that run smoothly. Today I’ve had comments and text messages and voicemails and emails ALL ABOUT ME AND MY BIRTHDAY and I just can’t tell you the kind of happy little glow I get each time. It’s ridiculous and juvenile and possibly even a bit self-centered but it’s the bestest feeling in the whole entire world when someone actually yells HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOOKER across the parking lot. Also, I’d like to add that the random trivia found on MSN this morning indicates that “the Eiffel Tower, one of the world’s most recognizable landmarks, officially opened on this date in 1889.” My birthday is so cool that even the EIFFEL TOWER gets to celebrate. I don’t care if you think me cheesy but I’ve stood under it’s giant legs and it’s so unbelievably marvelous and stunning it makes you kind of understand how Tom Cruise would want to proclaim his undying *cough* love for his *cough* soulmate Katie Holmes. On this day there will be no judging of his strange Dianetics-induced antics. Tomorrow, though, game on bitch.

I also have to send out a little thank you to my Mom’s womb-area for a) baking me long enough b) being just so damn eager to spit me out into the cold harsh world it forced me to visit a whole 6 weeks early. I think this was God’s way of telling me that my early arrival on this most auspicious of days was going to be my one and only shot at getting somewhere, anywhere early- much less on time. Hopefully neither my mother nor her womb find this blog (and seriously, the chances are slim as she has yet to grasp what the ‘desktop’ is) but if she does I hope she gets far enough to read this next part:

Dear Mom,

I love you more than anything in this whole entire world, including my cats and you know how much I love my cats. I’m not really referring to Llama as he is the devil incarnate but maybe I love him just a little bit. I’m really talking about Oscar and Thomas, rest in peace, and Cleo, the worlds fattest furball who still insists on rolling in the dusty patches in your driveway so he ends up looking kind of brownish-grey but you and I both remember the time when he was just a youngun and smelled like baby powder for many years in a row. This was obviously before he discovered the dusty patches but I digress. This is not about cats, this is about you and how damn cool you are and how if I’d been given the option to choose anybody else, any other mother in this whole entire world, I would still choose you. You make my life complete in that way no one else can because no one else carried me around for nine months minus six weeks and ate lots of pickles and bell peppers. Raw ones, not cooked, because we both like that crunch. Thank you for making me go to dance practice when I wanted to quit so I could stay home and watch Punky Brewster (even though I told you it was because I hated dance class and my tights made me itch) because you KNEW with your strange mom-radar that I was totally lying and just wanted to look at Punky’s bedroom again, the one with the cool bed. Thanks for driving me all over town as a kid so I got to do as many things as humanly possible even though I’m absolutely positive you’d have rather been lying on the couch reading a book. Thanks for letting me play with your hair when we visited Jolene’s house and thanks for letting me pretend I was a grownup with you guys, even though Jolene may have thought I ran my mouth incessantly and you probably didn’t get to talk about all the adult things you wanted to talk about because I was sitting RIGHT THERE, right beside your legs, refusing to leave because I was too old to play with my snotty younger brother and Jolene’s snotty sons. I always sort of blamed her for not having girls for me to play with until that one special day when I realized that you don’t actually get to pick that kind of stuff. Also, thanks for always leaving me voicemails that start with “Hi sweetie” because I secretly like it and I don’t even mind when you call me that in public.

Love,

Robin