Friday, September 06, 2002
I just noticed Galvin's birthday shout out and his generous offer. Hey, Nick, Bob, Anna -- how about it?
As it turned out, the Drift On Inn was a very nice place to spend my birthday. I was getting killed all night and by 11:30 I was down $150. Finally, just before midnight, just before my birthday ended, I hit a good streak and walked, at 11:58pm, up $180. The timing felt meaningful somehow. Spending my birthday alone amongst strangers, joking around, gambling, and drinking was definitely the right call.
I was just served a hot dog by a Nobel prize winner. How many of you can claim such a thing? Ah, the fun to be had at the annual employee barbecue.
Thursday, September 05, 2002
Tomorrow night, the three Michaels -- me, the other Mike G., and Michael A. -- are going to celebrate, a post-birthday party for me, a pre-birthday party for the other Mike G. We begin at 5:30, sampling happy hour at some to-be-determined hotel bar downtown. Others will join us later.
This is all well and good but, with Melle Mel away, I have to figure out something to do this evening. There is laundry to be done. And a general cleaning of the apartment which has deteriorated somewhat (ok, a lot) in Mel's absence. At some point I absolutely have to watch that DVD of The Scent of Green Papayas that's been hanging around for a month and that sorely needs to be sent back to Netflix in exchange for the first disc of the third season of The Sopranos. None of these sounds like something to do on a birthday.
The truth is, I can think of no better way of celebrating my newly bestowed maturity than heading up to the Drift On Inn with a mittful of cash and gambling the evening away. Is this pathetic? Possibly. If I lose badly on my birthday, do I take that as an omen? And, if so, is it necessarily a negative omen?
This is all well and good but, with Melle Mel away, I have to figure out something to do this evening. There is laundry to be done. And a general cleaning of the apartment which has deteriorated somewhat (ok, a lot) in Mel's absence. At some point I absolutely have to watch that DVD of The Scent of Green Papayas that's been hanging around for a month and that sorely needs to be sent back to Netflix in exchange for the first disc of the third season of The Sopranos. None of these sounds like something to do on a birthday.
The truth is, I can think of no better way of celebrating my newly bestowed maturity than heading up to the Drift On Inn with a mittful of cash and gambling the evening away. Is this pathetic? Possibly. If I lose badly on my birthday, do I take that as an omen? And, if so, is it necessarily a negative omen?
Today is my birthday. I am 34 years old. I am older than Jesus ever was, unless you buy all that resurrection stuff. I am equal in age to two 17 year olds which, coincidentally enough, is the present I'm really hoping I get. That's a joke. Honestly.
With Melle Mel out of town, I spent the weekend with my parents, Friday and Saturday at my mother's, Sunday at my father's. When I was a kid I called them "Debby" and "Ray" but now I typically refer to them as "Mother" and "Father" or even "Mummy" and "Pop." Saturday night my mother baked a cake, the first birthday cake she's made for me since the mid-80s. She and her partner Donna, my father and his (3rd) wife Hilary, old family friends Max and Chris - a familiar gang over the years who typically convene when I come to town. This time, for once, they didn't indulge in stories about me as a baby -- eating goat shit in Greece, running naked in Paris, etc. etc. My mother turns 60 next year and is planning a big, big party. Today I'm 34. My father at this age had a 6-year old son who was only beginning to show the signs of genius that would later manifest themselves so prominently.
I used to say that I was born on the same day as Freddie Mercury and Jesse James and that I liked to think of myself as a cross between the two. As I approach middle age I think it's time to move on from that. So I tell you now that I am born on the same day as John Cage and Raquel Welch, and I'm sure you can see the resemblance.
Here are some of the terrible things that happened over the years on my birthday, courtesy of some dumb site that I can't be bothered to credit:
1972 - PLO terrorists entered the Olympic Village in Munich, Germany, killing 11 members of the Israeli Olympic team.
1986 - Merv Griffin aired his final program.
1997 - Mother Teresa died of a heart attack at her Missionaries of Charity headquarters in Calcutta, India.
1998 - Aerosmith’s I Don't Want to Miss a Thing debuted at #1 on U.S. music charts. The song, from the movie, Armageddon, was the first single by Aerosmith to reach number one. It stayed at the top through the entire month of September.
It could be worse I guess. The other Mike G's birthday is on September 11. I told him we should go out to a bar that night and have a raucous celebration but, for some reason, he didn't seem into it.
With Melle Mel out of town, I spent the weekend with my parents, Friday and Saturday at my mother's, Sunday at my father's. When I was a kid I called them "Debby" and "Ray" but now I typically refer to them as "Mother" and "Father" or even "Mummy" and "Pop." Saturday night my mother baked a cake, the first birthday cake she's made for me since the mid-80s. She and her partner Donna, my father and his (3rd) wife Hilary, old family friends Max and Chris - a familiar gang over the years who typically convene when I come to town. This time, for once, they didn't indulge in stories about me as a baby -- eating goat shit in Greece, running naked in Paris, etc. etc. My mother turns 60 next year and is planning a big, big party. Today I'm 34. My father at this age had a 6-year old son who was only beginning to show the signs of genius that would later manifest themselves so prominently.
I used to say that I was born on the same day as Freddie Mercury and Jesse James and that I liked to think of myself as a cross between the two. As I approach middle age I think it's time to move on from that. So I tell you now that I am born on the same day as John Cage and Raquel Welch, and I'm sure you can see the resemblance.
Here are some of the terrible things that happened over the years on my birthday, courtesy of some dumb site that I can't be bothered to credit:
1972 - PLO terrorists entered the Olympic Village in Munich, Germany, killing 11 members of the Israeli Olympic team.
1986 - Merv Griffin aired his final program.
1997 - Mother Teresa died of a heart attack at her Missionaries of Charity headquarters in Calcutta, India.
1998 - Aerosmith’s I Don't Want to Miss a Thing debuted at #1 on U.S. music charts. The song, from the movie, Armageddon, was the first single by Aerosmith to reach number one. It stayed at the top through the entire month of September.
It could be worse I guess. The other Mike G's birthday is on September 11. I told him we should go out to a bar that night and have a raucous celebration but, for some reason, he didn't seem into it.
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