The Birthday Party Massacre Meets The Resurrection Mystery Basket
Birthday Party Massacre, meet…
… The Resurrection Basket (now with sparklies!). This year, the frankincense burns you!!!
Ok enough Hollywood trailers, let’s make like Huey Lewis and go back in time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (these are the dweedly marks indicating time traveling has commenced)
It’s 2011. Nixon hasn’t been President for over three decades. Arcade Fire is still a popular band amongst young, adolescent teens. Despite all the odds, Tootsie Roll is still in business making brown logs of crap colored candy that should have been burned in the Nazi fires instead of books. Sliced bread still remains the second best thing to anything that is the new best thing and last but not least, deep in the heart of the desert, a lone man walks. He walks alone, bearing the elements and using his intimidating stare to ward off questionable cactus. Or would that be cacti? He doesn’t know; he doesn’t care. Intimidating stares are like honey badger. They don’t care, they just stare.
Some stares are so intense they come with their own arrow letting the recipient know that shit just got real
When this lone ranger of the south finally makes his way across the empty wastelands of sand and “all you can eat” sagebrush buffets, he reaches into his rustic pocket and pulls out his not so rustic iPhone. It appears he has a voice mail. He must hear what news has occurred in the big city whilst he was lost under a sun scorched earth. Had sliced bread retaken the throne of best thing since itself?
Turns out that lone stranger with the “unconcerned with grammar” stare was me and the voice mail was from one of my best friends from high school telling me that he was getting married. “I need to be there” were his words. “Well of course” were my thoughts. Though I have very mixed feelings on marriage, I wanted to support my friend. That was until he hit me with the date: November 11th.
To most any reader, this date would seem arbitrary and unimportant. It would not effect your poker face, your garden would not suffer a lack of upkeep, and your manhood would not be in jeopardy. There wasn’t event a cool poem written about it like November 5th. To most, this day would be of little consequence.
“Remember, remember the 11th of November… There’s a reason I chose the 5th. A revolution isn’t worth having without dance and proper meter with your rhymes.”
For me however, this day presented three very distinct problems. First, was that my birthday was on November 13th. Normally I wouldn’t care, but this was not just any birthday. It was my 30th birthday and I wanted it to be over the top and exciting. I was entering an exciting new decade. Having thrown so many birthday blues parties for myself that culminated in the kind of wild shenanigans they make movie collections out of to sell on late night infomercials, I wasn’t too keen on giving that up. I knew that my birthday would most certainly be trumped by this wedding weekend.
Secondly, it was October. This was not what one would call “advanced notice”. It left me little time to get out to where he was which in turn presented the third and most critical problem. He was getting married in none other than Chicago. I don’t know if any of you have ever been up north when it starts to hit winter, but if you haven’t, find a Shamrock foods and ask if you can sun bath in their deep freezers. When your frost bite gets frost bite than you’ll start to have an idea.
Smurfs are actually a community of people who hitchhiked north during the winter
I love my friend, but if there were two things I learned in school it was to say no to two things: drugs and hitchhiking in the north during winter. There was no way I was hitchhiking all the way to Illinois in November.
Despite my initial apprehensions, I talked to my friend who assured me that his wedding would happen Friday and that we would celebrate my birthday all day Saturday. And as for hitchhiking out there, there was no need for that. My close friend Kael offered to buy my plane ticket out there. A wonderfully generous offer. What at first looked like inconvenient timing was beginning to take a different light.
Instead of a wild party, I could instead enjoy a full day with people I have been close to for a large portion of my life. It would be more emotionally fulfilling which in my travels sounded much more attractive. Changing communities can take its toll if you don’t find people to recharge and deeply connect with. I was in need of this. The shade of this picture began to take on a new look and I was happier about it.
Ommm…. Feel the birthday connection. We are all one with the birthday. We shall all exercise sweet Zen candle blow out technique. Ommmm…
What would happen would culminate in one of my absolute worst birthdays ever. Ever! Yet at the end of that tunnel shone a great white light. One that would prove more grandiose than even I could have imagined. Tune in next time for the bitter to sweet story of my birthday party massacre.