It’s my birthday today. Woo, go me.

I was thinking about the Beatles song, Birthday. The lyrics go a little something like this:

You say it’s your birthday
It’s my birthday too–yeah

How hard would that suck? You’re all happy because it’s your birthday and people are probably going to be nice to you and give you stuff and it’s basically “your day” for the day — and fucking Paul McCartney comes bopping in saying “It’s my birthday too — yeah!” Great. So now you get to share “your day” with one of the most famous and beloved men in music. Great. Guess whose day it’s really gonna be now? That’s right: the Walrus’s. Goo goo g�joob.

And then Paul goes on to sing:

I would like you to dance–Birthday
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance-Birthday
I would like you to dance–Birthday

Great. So not only are you going to be overshadowed by McCartney, who all the women are going to be screaming over while you sit lonely and ignored in the corner, but now he also wants you to be his monkey too. Dance, monkeyboy, dance! Dance for my pleasure! Some birthday.

McCartney hasn’t shown up yet here, though, so mine’s been going pretty well so far. The day started at Zoe’s school with their annual Halloween parade, where the Fates finally granted my wish and brought me face to face with her. And of course I was wearing that stupid Elvis mask for the introduction, which must explain why she didn’t immediately tackle me to the ground and begin having her way with me. But that’s okay, we have a whole school year ahead of us. Stalking Love takes time.

Then I went to the movies solo, which I love to do, and saw Saw. Ha, I just like saying that:

I saw Saw.
What did you see?
Saw.
Okay, what did you saw?
Nothing, I went to the movies. I saw Saw.

Ha. Anyway: Saw. Not bad. Genuinely creepy at a few points, good tension, but then it got kind of silly in the 3rd act, especially with Cary Elwes gnawing every little bit of scenery he could find. And don’t get me started on the yeah, right bad guy. But over-all: eh, not bad.

Then home again to meet up with Mom, who gave the gift that always fits: cash, then Beth and Zoe showed up with a hooded vest for diving. My wetsuit has no hood, which means my big bald noggin is hanging out there in the water scaring all the fish, and on my last dive the water temp was 62, which was pretty fuggin’ cold and which served as notice to me that it was probably my last dive of the season without a hood. When you get a spike-in-the-head headache from how cold the water is around you, it’s time to cover up. Which now I’ll be able to do, warmly.

And finally, on tap for dinner this evening is sushi at our favorite restaurant. Woo.

Not a bad way to celebrate a birthday. It’s almost enough to make you forget you’re turning 4-friggin’-2.

Ouch.