n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



June 13, 2003 - 9:57 am

Sometimes Pants Just Need To Come Off

Until two days ago, I had completely forgotten that my mom put a curse on Jim Belushi.

Mom doesn't take too kindly to celebrities that she feels have slighted her son. On Wednesday, the birthday, I received a little postal lovin' from her that included a crisp, clean Andrew Jackson, an article about consolidating your student loans, and another clipping (which I haven't yet read) that no doubt highlights some ill fortune that has afflicted JB.

Whatever that clipping says about the man, it must be bad, because it was accompanied by a note reading: "See? I told you that curse I put on him was working!"

Never cross an old, superstitious Sicilian woman.

So, despite my glaring handicap of not being a gay, black, fabulous black man a la Hollywood of 'Mannequin' fame, one of the first things I did upon arriving to work Wednesday morning was announce that it was my birthday. This was a very strategic announcement, as I knew that any mention of the special day would cancel out any attention paid to the fact that I was 20 minutes late. It worked like a charm, and soon I was entertaining offers of birthday lunches with strangers.

But I had another plan.

Everyone knows that Denny's gives you free food on your birthday, right?

Apparently, that policy has changed. My friends, the world we grew up in is gone. My waitress may as well have spit on my Moon Over My Hammy.

This, of course, has incurred my murderous wrath. I was going to write a letter, but then I realized that any correspondence with this heartless corporation should be handled by a true champion of the downtrodden. Genghis, as my agent/creative represntation, you should know that you have a very unhappy personality on your hands, and you should be royally pissed that one of your most talented clients was mistreated by a Los Angeles Denny's.

You know what you must do.

The rest of the events surrounding my birthday were far more pleasant. Heather made my last night as a 27 year old one to remember with a celebratory pizza. The roommate and my friend Natalie took me out to dinner and showered me with an embarassment of presents. I received many a call from well wishers at home and abroad.

It was a truly fantastic birthday, made so by the fact that I know some truly fantastic people. I am so glad that I know all of you. I really am. If anything, my birthday made me realize how happy and fortunate I am to have moved to a city where I barely knew a single person, only to fall in with a crew like you. Thank you.

Really, though, it was almost too good. At points, I felt like I was the grandpa being pampered before being tossed into the home. Or perhaps a slightly slow eight year old boy, about to be informed that his puppy is in heaven with Jesus now.

After dinner, Jonny and Natalie took me to a creek in the woods near our apartment. We all sat down, and they told me to close my eyes. They began to describe a little ranch we would all own together one day. They talked about the fields of grain we would grow, and how we would only work when we wanted to work.

"Will there be rabbits?" I asked.

"Yes, Bill, there will be rabbits," they answered.

And that's when I ran.

True story.

Tonight is the official party, and tonight there will be drinking.

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