Battling a bout of The Crud, as well as seeing Son #1 off to his new digs in South Carolina, left me no time or energy for a new blog post this week. With yesterday being my birthday, I'm sharing a a post from last year, updated to reflect my new--and debatably improved--age.
I had a birthday yesterday. Well-meaning friends and family refer to ones like this as "special" or "big." People actually in the midst of hitting such an age call it a "Holy shit, how could this be when just yesterday I still needed a fake ID" kind of birthday.
Although my family offered to throw me a party, I declined. Some birthdays are made to be celebrated and others, simply to be had. I told them I'd rather take a raincheck, one that could be used, say, fifty years from now. Because that, my friends, will be a birthday to truly celebrate.
So, let me take this moment to cordially invite all of you--to my 100th birthday party!
Please save the date: October 25, 2061.
No need to RSVP. It's quite likely I'll have no clue if you're there or not. I may not know where I am either, but I plan to have one bodacious good time.
If you don't recognize me, just look for the four-foot-tall, prune-faced biddy wearing a strapless red dress and eff-me heels. Or else a floral shift and bunny slippers. I'm 100. I'll wear whatever I damn well want, thank you.
No gifts, please. Instead, I ask that all guests purchase Xeroxed copies of one of my unpublished novel manuscripts. These will be personally signed by the author, of course, although I may need some assistance with the inscriptions. ("What was your name again, honey? Oh, you say you're one of my children? Uh-huh. And what is my name?")
I can't spend my entire evening signing autographs though. I will be too busy doing tequila shots. At 100, I figure I can rekindle all those bad behaviors I left long behind in my wayward youth. If someone passes a doobie, I'll probably take a hit or two.
For dinner, I will eat an entire bowl of dill pickle potato chips and three pieces of chocolate cake. No one will blink an eye. If anyone dares, I will growl, "What the hell's wrong with you, sonny? Quit gawking and go get me another tequila shot!"
We will play loads of games and my guests will declare me the winner of every one, even if I nod off in the middle.
I will kiss all the babies and all the good-looking men in the crowd. I may invite the hottest guy there back to my private room, in the nursing home.
Who knew there was so much to look forward to, in our golden years?
If you want in on the festivities, please leave your name in the comments section. My mom is already compiling the invitation list; Glo does like to plan ahead. She promises to bring enough tequila for everyone. But the dill pickle potato chips? Those are mine. I'll be 100, and I shouldn't be expected to share with anyone.
Bring your own damn chips.
Wow, turning 100 is so liberating. I can barely wait.
I'm buying the bunny slippers tomorrow.
Do you want to celebrate or commiserate about your next big birthday? What's on your gift wish list? And I lied--I totally want presents too--so, what will you bring me?