Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Alms for the Poor

Brad has guilted me into guilting all of you into feeling guilty for not buying me this stuff. He seems to believe that if I put up a link to the many things I want I will recieve gifts from the many rich philanthropists who read this blog, because they are kindhearted people and understand that I cannot afford to buy a $109.00 copy of an out of print Amy Hempel book, because medical publishing isn't as lucrative as one would think.

I think that is a very selfish idea.

If anything, everyone should be buying Brad presents because he's turning the big 2-3 in a mere eight days. Because God is dead, Brad will be in Ohio for his birthday while I will be in New York. I figure if I can't be there on June 15th to rat him out to the drag queens at Bounce--who would pull him on stage, pour complimentary Jager down his throat and force him to drop trou all in the name of a happy birthday--the least I can do is plug his birthday wish list and hope a few of you kind strangers see fit to give a growing boy the LCD Soundsystem album he so desperately needs.

I've probably said this before, but I have terrible birthdays. I'll tell anyone about my bad birthdays. It's a great sob story because, really, what's sadder than a terrible birthday? A terrible birthday where your party gets cancelled because your birthday fell on Yom Kippur and there's no parking in all of Manhattan. Check, that's sadder. How about a terrible birthday where your three-year-old brother overturns a pot of boiling hot coffee on his leg and has to be rushed to the hospital before you can even open your presents? One more in the sad column. How's about a birthday where your brand new college friend hooks up with your brand new college crush? Big ol' sad-wich. What about a birthday where you go to work and no one cares it's your birthday because you're just a temp, so you shred I-9s through the first 12 hours of your twenty-second year, only to go home and not even eat cake because your mom didn't get one because you're on the South Beach Diet, and finally when an old friend unexpectedly calls you to go out, even though you've had a bad day you get all dressed up and hope to polish off the night well, and you sit on your bed watching TV waiting for her to call you back when she "gets out of the shower," but you eventually fall asleep fully dressed and made up with your phone in your hand waiting for her call, which never comes, even to this day, making it the longest period during which you haven't spoken since you met her in third grade?

What's that rumble? Is that--quick! Duck! IT'S A SADALANCHE!

Yeah, my birthdays are, on the whole, not so hot. I have had a couple good ones, but mostly September the 15th is marked by awkwardness, tragedy, natural disaster, etc. My good birthdays are good simply by virtue of their not being terrible.

I thought I was on the upswing of the bad birthday parabola, too. 18 was bad, 19 was terrible, but then 20 improved back up to just being bad. 21 was actually pretty good. And then twenty-two was probably the worst birthday I ever had.

Which, moral of the story, is why everyone should buy Brad Walsh a present for his birthday. I'm not bitter that I have bad birthdays; to the contrary, I love birthdays and try my best to ensure that other people's birthdays aren't so terrible (speaking of: happy birthday Andy, and Andrea, I have a more month-old birthday card for you serving as my bookmark until I find a stamp). But all the collaged birthday cards in the world from yours truly can't make up for the kindess of strangers.

Send Brad a present. You know it'll make you feel good. He deserves it, he's a good kid. He's a snappy dresser and a killer dancer. He makes excellent electropop, fried polenta, and memories. He's the kind of kid who'll give your parents a framed picture of you for Christmas. He has home videos of him and his little brother that'll make you cry. He also wears bright green satin short shorts.

Probably right now.


Blogger DMo said...

First off, every boy deserves a copy of LCD Soundsystem. It is hot.

However, as I just recently procured my copy, and since my birthday falls remarkably close to Brad's, I will save the step of giving him mine and asking for a copy in return and just keep the record for myself. OK?

But, Brad, happy birthday and best of luck avoiding whatever birthday curse Kathy seems to bring along with her.

2:14 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Yeah, classic birthday cop-out. You selfish bastard.

Happy (belated? impending?) birthday to ya, and don't worry, neither you nor Brad will catch my birthday curse. I think only my "we will never see Mary Timony together" curse is contagious. How many times did I not see her, Brad? Thirty-seven?

2:19 PM  
Anonymous brad said...

at least that many. there's also the "everything electronic that kathy touches will be broken for no reason in two days" curse, the hex of the faulty automobiles, and the plague of heels dropping into sidewalk grates.

4:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm loving this Wishlist-buying stuff. It's like instant good karma. Plus it totally takes the guesswork out of getting people good presents.

Plus there's always stuff on the list that even a broke-ass like myself can afford. Thank you for that!

6:20 PM  
Anonymous insane said...

crap, there goes my bright idea of green satin short shorts.... have to think of something else now.

8:25 AM  

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