Not only do I LOOK like a monkey...

I smell like one, too! Just for today, though. Because it's my birthy-day. The big two-five. No joke, people, I'm OLD.

I don't know where to start with all of the things I could tell you people out there in the world who might be so unfortunate as to read my rubbish. Lemme break it down to some more conquerable form.


Celebratin'

Part 1: Friday

The lovely Miss Meera planned a grand evening for the two of us, and her blog covers the basics. We went to The Encore, a piano bar in the theatre district situated directly below The Roxy. Meera's glorious plan was for the two of us to dress fancy, drink a few cocktails, get a feel for their open mic, and eventually get on stage (if not that evening, the next time around). After three and a half hours of intimidation from the PROFESSIONAL SINGERS who swaggered into the bar after their performances in shows down the street, Meera wrangled the emcee (who ran the open mic by calling on her personal friends to sing) and told her that I would like to sing. That's pretty much the only way to get me on stage, turns out, because I'm the biggest weiner alive when it comes to actually talking to people and signing up for things like this.

So about 45 minutes after Meera pulled the lady aside, after her and her pianist's set break, after most of the professionals had blessedly moved on to other realms, the woman sat down next to me, her Velma wig tickling my shoulder as she leaned in to ask me, "So, do you really wanna sing?"

That's when I started shaking. Even while I heard my voice slipping easily out of me, even as I confidently planned my attack on the last chorus, even while I looked into Meera's serene face, and five minutes after I sat down, I was shaking. I am such a pansy.

Meera, even with mangled lyrics, was much cooler.

In fact, Arnold, the possibly 70+ yr old man with the checkered tweed pants, ridiculously huge and heavy glasses, and baseball cap, sang with utter confidence and joy. Even better, Bill, another older gent with an impressive belly (I think it's an opera belly rather than a beer belly) sang sans mic! He waded through the room a bit as well, singing directly to specifice audience members, blasting out the high notes. And then there was Kelly, a skinny sorority girl type with pointy features and (I think) pointy shoes. She conferenced with Tim, the pianist, for about twenty minutes on and off, in between other people's songs, trying to show him how she wanted to do her song. And then she got up there, and with a kind of irritating boldness, screamed out her lyrics in full Broadway style. I tried to figure out if I found her irritating because she was, in a sense, direct competition to myself and Meera - young and female in a room full of old men and young gay men. The more she sang, the more I realized; nope, she's just f'ing annoying.

I was thinking of what it takes to be a diva. I don't think I actually have that quality that even Arnold had, even with his bad notes and shakey voice. You have to be able to look in the mirror, do one of those fake gun point things, say, "Heeeey good lookin'," and believe yourself.

All this is beside my birthday point: it was a great night, with amazing company, and entertainment beyond our expectations.


Part 2: Saturday

I T'd home from Meera's place Saturday morning with two borrowed DVD's and 6 homemade (but I think legally made) CDs, the latter all gifts from the noticeably lovely Meera. I walked into my apartment, gratefully removed my jazzy shoes at long last, put on my pineapple pants, and put Kung Fu Hustle in the DVD player. H-Bomb seemed a bit confused. We shared a few words about our nights and off she went to lab, leaving me to luxuriate in my apartment alone. When I treat myself, I usually do it with movies, and Kung Fu Hustle was a treat, indeed. Again, I lazily point you to Meera's review, because I agree wholeheartedly with her feelings for it, although I think I still rank Shaolin Soccer a wee bit higher. I mean, there was a lot more spontaneous dancing in Shaolin Soccer. Very West Side Story. Always appreciated.

The second DVD, Baz Luhrman's Romeo and Juliet, was also fantastic in an utterly different sense. R&J is not my favorite Shakespeare play, I should let you know, because I think that rapidly formed love affairs are more acceptable, generally speaking, in comedies. In tragedies you need a bit more evidence of love before your heart can truly feel trespassed upon, and it's just not possible when the lovers meet in Act II. (Not sure if that's accurate, but I think you know what I mean.) Anywho, I mean to say, it was okay for me that Leo and Claire didn't convince me of their undying love, because I don't know if it's possible in Willy's script. So there. Take that, Shakespeare. Booyah.

So yeah, I spent TWO MORE HOURS watching every possible special feature on the DVD. Every. Single. One.

And then Sarah rescued me from my lazy day, making plans to go out to dinner at Audubon Circle, the snooty place across from An Tua Nua near the St. Mary's T stop. Even better, she treated! And there was cake! And a reuben! And Katya and Anne came, as well as a troupe of boys Sarah has somehow befriended. And perhaps I have befriended them, too. Yes. Yes I have. I can't help myself... they play whiffle ball! That's almost as cool as kickball! (Oh, shades of last year's celebrations!)


Part the Third: Sunday

Yes, this does go on forever. I don't know how it happens that I end up spending whole weeks celebrating my birthday. Maybe it's because Meera and I usually hang out separately from other peeps, or maybe my friends pity me deeply for my lonely state due to parent/jobiv strife, or maybe it's because I'm incredibly worthy. (Doubt that last one. Lucky, maybe.)

Sunday morning I met up with Katya's fam for brunch at Zaftigs. Mmmmm.

Let me take a moment. Zaftigs... Ahhhhh.

I'm back now. I'm cool. Moving on. It was a treat to meet Ma and Pa Annabell, and I have to confess that I felt like I had a VIP pass to some exclusive kind of zoo. The Annabell family in action rivals The Encore for entertainment value. If only there had been a Velma wig, they just might have surpassed the piano bar.

I got home from brunch and immediately took on my laundry, and called Sarah to see how she'd gotten on with a certain redhead (not the Big U), and Certain Redhead happened to be in the room when I called. She invited me to ice cream. I explained the laundry issue. I ended up meeting them while my stuff was in the dryers and didn't return home until 11:30pm. How did I end up baking chocolate-stuffed choc. chip cookies instead of doing laundry? Well, really now, if this were a Choose Your Own Adventure Book, I think you'd flip to page 35, too.


Il quarto: oggi

E per oggi, io...

Okay, that is... As for today, I came to the baby's house and found a balloon and a gift bag in the living room, per me. Inside, gel pens, some cute stationery, and a very generous gift certificate to Booksmith. Ahh, they know me well.

Tonight I'll meet Sarah and her entourage for team trivia at some bar called Harry's. FUN!