Here we are. Almost a week later, and I suppose it is time to include a summary of my year twenty birthday. Let me first say, that I believe my records have updated to this being the best birthday of all the ones I have had.
Picture this, at 12am exactly. The first 12 seconds of my David holiday: Cupcakes. Not hand made, but hand picked from the finest of cupcake bakery, and hand delivered by the finest of man. Unexpected, watching your favorite episode of Drawn Together, and after 20 years of begging for cupcakes and only recieving ice cream cake, somebody finally provides the birthday treat of a lifetime. Someone has remembered the one thing you have always wanted on your birthday, and has also remembered one of the 3 foods on the top 3 list of favorite foods. The best.
On top of the delightful box of 6 ginormous cupcakes is a wonderfully wrapped, thin, square package with a neatly tied bow. Unravelling the gift, you discover that you have just recieved an album by one of the most beautiful, inspirational, cry-worthy artists in the entire world, Jonsi (aka the lead singer of Sigur Ros). Ecstatic!
So far, leading it's way to the greatest day of birth celebrations. So, we finish the episode of my favorite, totally racist, totally bizarre, totally shut off air, totally amazing television show, and head for some birthday intimacy in the bedroom. Which is where this paragraph comes to an end.
After only a couple hours of sleep, it is now time for love-nest to go to work. So at 6am, we arise, and I walk the fellow to work. I know what you are thinking. Why did I sleep for only 2 hours? Answer: Read the paragraph above. Why do I have to walk him to work, instead of just sleeping since I have the day off? Answer: Neither I or the roommate like when I stay at the house without lover boy. Also, if you knew anything about D.A. Higgs, you would know that his favorite time of day is the early morning. So we are walking, 15 minutes to the train, and of course, their is the most gorgeous of sunrises filling the skies above and beyond. Nothing beats a romantic walk in the sunrise with the one(s) you care about most. Thus, hand in hand, only being 6 hours into the morning, it is the best birthday, and I could have died happy right then and there.
Speaking of dying, we come to the next event. Of course, there is never a day where something weird does not happen to me; something creepy, involving drunk, or perhaps just weird, or even drugged up people. On this day, the oppurtunity for a crazy person to interact with me to not wait until mid-day or night, instead it prevailed bright and early. So the story: Waiting for the train to head home. I am holding my spectacular array of half eaten cupcakes (for they are much to large to even eat in one sitting) and stranger walks up to Lover and myself. We know the guy is drunk, he even has the hiccups, but we don't really think anything of it. I am used to being approached by drunks, so I am calm, whatever. "Where should I go?" The young lad asks. Uncertain, we just point in a direction, hoping that perhaps he will just go and leave us in peace. That did not happen. He spotted the cupcakes and this is the moment when the crazy began. If he was homeless, and obviously starving, I would not have a problem giving him one. It's the people that are hungry, but have food in a home that they live in, where fresh clothing and water also rest, that I am not as willing to share my birthday cupcakes with. Also, the last time I checked, "Give me a cupcake!!" sounds more like a rude demand than something I can admire and fall in to. "Give me a cupcake!!" Strange man bellows again. "Sorry, these are my birthday cupcakes on MY birthday." That was my reply. Then the stranger begins to go a little nuts. "I want a fucking cupcake!!! I want a fucking cupcake!!" So Lover and I decide to walk away, since to our inconvenience the train only comes every 15 minutes this early in the day. The stranger follows us. We continue walking, trying to ignore. Stranger has forgotten that it was cupcakes in my hand and yells, "Give me fucking browny. I can follow you. Give me a brownie!" We exit the C-train station, he is still legging behind. Then we see a crowd of passengers edging there way to the station. Now we are not the only ones, so we figure the psyco will calm down. Wrong again. Let's make this story a little bit shorter, I will summarize the rest. I get hit in the face with his sweater, twice. He is angry. "Give me a fucking muffin" (he forgets the food item once again) He starts to go away. He takes of his belt in the corner. He comes back, hitting the cement floor with his belt. Comes closer. Tries to hit us with his belt. Train comes. We run into it. He does not follow. We are safe. The End. Mind you, I was on the train going in the wrong direction, but I did not want to wait there with Crazy all alone, so I took the detour. I love when events like this happen. As my good friend always says "It is one of those events where you could have died, but since you didn't, it makes a great story."
The next best thing about the birthday was the safe c-train ride home. 45 minutes of listening to my ipod on the best shuffle. Often I find myself skipping through songs at a time, to find the one I am in the mood for. The whole way home, I did not have to skip a single song. The shuffle feature must have detected my birthday, and given me all the right music. It was spectacular.
An hour passes and I arrive at home. To do nothing. Or whatever I want (which was nothing.) I sat. I wrote. I watched the Wizard of Oz. And I sat. Spectacular.
At 3pm I arrive back in the southern area of the city and I meet with Lover once again, whom has just finished his delightful 8 hour shift. We hang out at his place for a couple of hours, not doing much, except perhaps some more cartoon reality television, some minor sexual favors, and of course, the glorious nap to proceed.
We arise from our nappage, and begin the journey back up north, only to meet a couple of my very best friends to enjoy a drink (or two, or maybe even one too many) and some pub grub. The ladies bought for me a spectacular gift of all the necessaties that I have been complaining about needing. They surprised me with deodarant, razors (finally I can shave my face. It has been way too long), shampoo, toothpaste (I have been keeping care of my teeth, but only with other peoples' paste) and other spectacular items.
The plan of going to the gay dance (because it was pride week/weekend) with Lover failed, and going to the gay club with Lover was a no go. Lines were too long, we were too cold, and too wet. So although I really wanted to go out for my birthday, and Lover really wanted to go out for Pride, we ixnayed those ideas, and trekked back to the homeland. Where nothing to exhilierating happend, but we enjoyed our final 2 hours of my birthday together, cuddled, snuggled, and then went to bed.
Now I have never been one for holidays, and I have for sure never been one for birthdays. I have had very minimal celebrations for my it. However, I think if every birthday were to pan out this way, and be as spectacular as that day was, I wouldn't mind the celebrations. One final thing to add on to the goodness of today, was the many phone calls from all of my best friends (or most) and the very minimal facebook messages. A phone call from my mother, and an e-mail from my mother. Those things were the icing on the cupcake. I have never felt as thought of or as cared about on a birthday, or any day, before, and on Saturday, Septemeber the Fourth of Two-Thousand and Ten, I felt so loved. I believe that is why I did not mind my birthday for this one year. You know how on your birthday people always ask "how do you feel?" and you just roll your eyes and say "I don't feel any different. I feel exactly the same." Well, this birthday, the opposite fell true. I felt older. I felt different. I felt...spectacular.
Also, I got free unlimited local calling. Thanks Telus.
DA
