Posts Tagged ‘Birthdays’

Inane Clown Posse

July 27, 2020

Did you ever have a clown for your birthday? I did once. The balloon animals were kind of fun and I did like the time he squirted seltzer down his pants. But the entire experience was way too frightening. Face it: Clowns are scary! Funny? Debatable. More like manic, painted, in-your-face freaks. Too much of the goofy slapstick and not enough urbane wit.

I tell you. That was the worst 23rd birthday party ever!!

Strings Attached

June 9, 2020

When I was seven, I got invited to my cousin’s birthday party. Since his parents couldn’t afford a clown or magician or actual entertainment, my uncle put on a puppet show complete with home-made marionettes. Unfortunately, he had made the damn things out of old G.I. Joes and Barbies and, when he got the strings crossed, Ski Patrol Joe ended up doing something rather obscene to Skipper.

I can’t say for sure that’s why my relationships are all screwed up, but it can’t have helped.

Chess Bored

May 3, 2020

I got a chess board for my tenth birthday. An uncle gave it to me. But there were no chess men with it. Every year, after that, he gave me just one piece per birthday. For my eleventh birthday, I got a white bishop. For my twelfth, a black rook. Then, pawns. For sixteen bloody years straight: pawns! I am so sick of chess now, he could give me the rest of pieces in solid gold and I wouldn’t give a damn!


They Say It’s Your Birthday

December 10, 2019

How pathetic is it to have the local bakery do up a birthday cake for yourself and then have it delivered “anonymously” to you at your office while you’re at lunch? I mean, you know full well that your co-workers will see it and throw an impromptu party for you when you get back. And you can, of course, feign ignorance. “How did you ever find out?” “Oh, I didn’t want a fuss!” The best thing is, since it’s all last minute, they won’t even have time to get you a card so they’ll have a quick whip ‘round and put some cash in an envelope. Sweet! But, um, like I said – just how pathetic is that?

Well. How pathetic is it when you do this but it’s not really your birthday – you just need some spare cash? Um … I’m asking hypothetically, of course. For a friend.

Movie Rebuff

October 22, 2019

It was summer of 1989 and I’m at my friend Eric’s birthday party. I liked Eric; he had a hot mom. And so, for his birthday, his hot mom took about a half dozen of us kids out for pizza and a movie. I wanted to see Ghostbusters II because that first one was so awesome (at the very least, maybe that new Batman thing people were talking about) … only I got overruled and outvoted and we ended up seeing Troop Beverly Hills at the dollar cinema, an experience I only barely survived by rooting for the Red Feathers, the rival scout group.

Seriously! Troop Beverly Hills! How awful is that!

Eric’s hot mom didn’t even sit with us.



October 5, 2019

For about four years in the 1980s, my family would only exchange potato-based foods for one another’s birthdays. Potato salad, potato chips, mashed potatoes, potato bread, hash browns, latkes, tater tots, baked potatoes, Russet potatoes, red potatoes, white potatoes, purple potatoes, yellow potatoes, Idaho potatoes, new potatoes. No clothes, no jewelry, no toys, no gift certificates, just potatoes and potato foodstuffs. I never knew why and no one ever questioned this practice. All I remember is that we stopped about the same time Reagan left office. I don’t know if it was a coincidence or not.

Different varieties of potatoes, isolated on white background.

Tales From My Screwed-Up Childhood #24

March 11, 2019

For some reason, I recall my 12th birthday party. It was a sleepover. We watched scary B movies on TV, ate food picked up from the nearby Pizza Inn, played a lame “truth or dare” (an innocent, pre-pubescent kind wherein the dares were along the lines of “spray a Waterpik® up your nose”) and threw rocks into the swimming pool of my apartment complex. We also did one of those horribly stupid acts, the type that can only be committed by junior high school boys.

When the first of us fell asleep, the rest of us placed a half-eaten lime popsicle in his exposed butt crack. It melted, of course, so that, come morning, this kid had a sticky green fruity residue up his rear. I forget the guy’s name but I have always felt really, really sorry about this. So if this ever happened to you – or to anyone you know – please accept my sincere apologies. I’d claim mob mentality but, truth is, I thought it was kind of funny at the time.

I still do, a little … but that doesn’t mean I can’t have qualms, as well. Right?

Somebody Save Me

September 10, 2018

Supposedly, as it was told, Superman was born on February 29th. At least that was the pat response that DC Comics and staff would give when queried as to the date of the Man of Steel’s birth either by mail or at comic book conventions or cocktail parties. Me, I always found that explanation to be a bit glib. Born on leap day? As if that explained the comic book contrivance of aging at a slower rate than the readership. If so, what about Batman? Or Wonder Woman? Or Julius Schwartz? And was the 29th supposed to be the day he was born on Krypton or the date he arrived on Earth and was adopted by the Kents? The apathetic answer, designed to quiet fanboys, disturbed me greatly as a young collector. But, to be honest, what really disturbs me the most about this whole Superman’s birthday commotion was how much time I spent obsessing over that particular piece of four-color minutiae when I was a teenager!

Yep, I didn’t date much in high school.


Stank You Very Much

May 8, 2018

My Aunt Jennie had really nasty halitosis. And when she blew out her birthday candles, she’d imbue the cake with her – er, essence. She couldn’t understand why no one wanted seconds. And nobody had the heart to tell the old dear it was because, thanks to whatever had crawled up and died in her mouth, the lemon-iced sheet cake now tasted like complete ass.

Dad Man Balking

April 16, 2018

My old man absolutely hated birthdays and refused to celebrate his under any circumstances. Once I made the mistake of baking him a birthday cake and presenting it to him after dinner. He wasn’t the least bit thankful or happy. In fact, he threw the cake against the wall and locked me in an old freezer we had out in the garage for two days.

To this day, I can’t eat angel food without balling up into the fetal position and crying.