It's days like today that make me wish I was a flamboyant gay black man.

Well, actually, it's my birthday, and my birthday doesn't always make me wish I was swishy and fabulous. But I was just thinking about the fact that I started this new temp gig on Monday, and no one in my office knows that today is my special day, and even if they did, I've only been there about 48 hours, and if I were to mention it, the reaction would most likely be something along the lines of:

"Oh. Well. Um, happy birthday, Mr. uh...temp...guy."

But being a flamboyant gay black man would give me the ability to walk in there and loudly announce that it was indeed my birthday. My supervisor, Jim, could try to assign me work, and I could say "Girl, don't you know it's my Birth Day? UH!" And really, who could argue with that?

Yes, so I am now 28, twice the age of my average demographic here on the Diaryland, and one step closer to 30 than I'd like. 27 was given a respectful salute and a lovely send off. Ice cream was involved.

This afternoon, I may well eat at Denny's for lunch (I pass by two of them on my 8 minute commute to work). Tonight, my more than excellent friends will gift me with gifts and dine me with dinner. They've asked me to choose a meal with which to be feted, and so I have, and in the words of the respectful leader of the Ancient Order of the Stonecutters, I must announce:

We're havin' ribs!

Other birthdays: Ben Jonson, Shakespeare's BFF and onetime "roommate," 1572. Jacques Coust-izzo, French explorer of the H2-izzo, 1910. Millicent G. Fawcett, British suffragette, 1847.

And sure, we've had a lot of fun here today, but never let us forget that today in 1891, Portugal assigned Barotseland, now in Zambia, to Britain and Nyasaland became a British protectorate.