Tanjobi ohmeritoh, nyuka.

Well, I had a fucking fantastic birthday this year--no offense to previous years, no not at all, but this may have been the best birthday yet. Or at least since I was in 5th grade and no one I invited came except my best (and apparently only) friend Jake Severn. That was the most fun birthday I can recall... but this one was petty close. I had specifically established that I didn't want to do anything (anyone who knows anything will hear this as a que for a surprise party--but thankfully, I don't know shit!), and the whole birthday at the bar (or "barthday" if you're sucky) seemed mad played out. I, quite literally, just wanted to spend the evening playing Dungeons & Dragons with Erin, Toby, and Morgan, cause I'm a god damned nerd. So, Friday night, I have an impropmtu drinking fest with some friends down in the U-District. I get drunk enough that I smoke a cigarette (which I regret with each puff), then I don't remember much. Apparently Alice rationed out my beer, while I attacked Jon, insisting that we were God Brothers, and cajoled my newest God Brother into going to the baja. I do come back to forming memories when I'm standing in my empty dark kitchen, ferociously eating nachos, soft with cheese and chili, which I learned I purchased from 7-11 only the next morning, when I woke up ("How did I get in bed...?"), stumbled into the kitchen ("Why am I covered in unlit ciagrettes and Sharpie pens?"), and saw an opened but undrank Beck's, and a tray of cold nacho mush. "7 Eleven" was displayed prominently on said dish.

That morning was my opportunity to practice some hang over theories I'd been working on, namely not drinking more thna a gulp of water every half-hour or so, no matter how dry my throat is. Someone told me the liver releases all the toxins it's holding onto when one drinks a lot of water, and I've noticed many times that I feel pretty good when I first wake up, and the hang-overs always seem to creeeeep up on me... so I avoided nausea by sipping water--not chugging it--and recxovered sooner than I expected. So, I come home, for the aformentioned D&D session (+1d4), and see Erin's car, and Erika's car. "Oh, they're probably chillin in the livingroom" I say, thinking very little of the fact that it's June 3rd, and I turn 24 in a few hours... I step into a dark livingroom, and am punched in the face by a chorus of "SURPRISE!!", followed, I was later told, by a several volleys of Nerf darts.

The human mind is a funny thing, and it is used to only picking out a few details of a constantly crowded reality. That is why I was unable to recognize any particular face in the crowd that filled the livingroom before me. I was aware, as I panned across the forum, that I knew each face, but, somehow the only detail that I could focus on, was the inflatable dinosaur across the room. So, the first thing anyone heard me say after the energetic welcome, was "Who invited that douche-bag dinosaur?!" or something equally innapropriate. I was filled to capacity (and more) with a deep sense of love, and appreciation, and excitement. All of my most favorite people (with a few necessary expections) were simultaniously saying they loved me, and if I didn't keep making jokes about how floored I was, I would have wept until the house was empty. No joke--every one of my friends would have tiptoed quietly out while I sobbed like a shithead. I wriggled along this razors edge by yelling thank you over and over, and hugging everyone I could. There was laughter and music and a dinosaur theme, and we all mingled outside, and no matter how quickly I moved from person to person, I felt like I needed to spend more time with someone I hadn't talked with yet, or someone who's conversation I had to cut short because it's my birthday party, and even if I didn't know about it, I'm the host! And in that idea lies the trace counter-emotion that marked the first few minutes of the surprise: I had been completely duped. The rug was pulled out form under me and a trick was played, and my D&D game was cancelled and I was now the center of fucking attention, and it made me mad, and dissapointed, and freaked out, the way an abused monkey feels when he goes on the Tonight show. This was just an ingredient, and I need to stress how much a drop in the ocean it was, but it was there, the way it always is when someone you know is more knowledgable than you, and it made for a tincture that only very slowly subsided. Call it a 4-dimensional razors edge. I wanted, I realize now, to yell "How dare you assholes! You fuckers really fucked things up! God damnit I love you all so fucking much!". Instead, I fear, I got a little "host-ey", and I hope not too distant in my schmoozy-ness. But I was drowning in deep, deep appreciation. So to everyone who was there, showed up later, wanted to come but couldn't, or was just, in effect, there in spirit, I thank you. And I will be thanking you for as long as I live. You mean everything to me, you people. ...You are my life.

Except that motherfucker, David Cornwell.

Now, as I said, I'd been nursing a hang-over all day, and really did believe myself, this time, when I kept thinking that me and alchohol were done. Over. At least until my body had a few weeks to excise the toxins. But what does every motherfucker give me for my birthday? Booze! And not just "here let me buy you a drink" (which was part of what I wanted to avoid this year). No, I got some of the nicest beers I have ever tasted (chugged, whatever), and some of the biggest portions of fine hard alchohol my freezer has ever known! And I loved it! I mean, how could you not laugh if you walk into a room thinking "I don't want any beer!" and, from the darkness comes a bunch of hands holding giant beers?! I drank, actually, very little, that night. But this week has been pretty warm and cushioney, thanks to the generosity of my boisterous enabler-friends. And this group was such a fine-tuned colection of people. All my favorites from work (again, some couldn't come--ain't no thang, you were there in spirit), and all my favorites from non-work. It was like the pleasant converse to George's announcement that "worlds are colliding, Jerry!". And there were a few that, I have to be honest, I wouldn't have invited. Not because I don't like them--not at all. Because they just aren't the people I am aware that I am close to. The people that are in my life everyday, but I have never taken the time to realize how much they are a part of me. It was the people who would be in the cast list of a movie God made about me. It was like I was dying, and this was my chance to say thank you. Like I said, it was overwhelming. That's why I hugged everyone so much.

Except that god damn David Cornwell!

Now stay tuned for Part II!