BIRTHDAY BASH, BIRTHDAY BLUES

If you’ve been paying any attention to this blog over the last few months, you’ve probably noticed that there hasn’t been much to pay attention to. Normally, I use this page as an outlet for my emotional extremes, such as angst, joy, and hatred. But ever since I got back from California, I’ve been drained. When I haven’t been scrounging for work, hanging with my girlfriend K., or travelling somewhere in preparation for grad school, my free time has been spent writing movie reviews for my other site, reellifeallaboutmymovies.blogspot.com (Now featuring reviews of Amarcord, and City of Women). Please don’t think I’ve abandoned “When Blogs Attack!” completely. But it’s tough changing gears from semi-serious movie reviewing to what I usually do for this blog, which is, well, being a jerk.

Humor, humor… Where did I leave that sense of humor…? Okay, over the past weekend, I went over to K.’s place, and we watched “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” For those who have never heard of it, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” stars Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, a Manhattan-based bohemian who may be a free spirit, a fake, or something. The movie also stars the late George Peppard as aspiring writer Paul. He gets to participate in that classic scene where he tells Holly he’s in love with her, she replies “So what?” and he answers, “So what? So plenty!”

Anyway, George Peppard also starred in that violent 80’s television show, “The A-Team.” What a career he had! I mean, who else can claim to have acted across from both Audrey Hepburn and Mr. T? Then I started to imagine Mr. T performing some of Audrey Hepburn’s famous roles. Can you picture him, all 250 pounds of muscle, gold chains, and mohawk, reciting, “I want to live someplace that makes me feel just like Tiffany’s.” How about the other way around? Imagine frail, regal Audrey Hepburn, turning up her birdlike features and saying, “I pity the fool who does drugs.” Or better yet, “Hannibal, I ain’t gettin’ on that plane!”

Ah, that’s a good start. Now that the first joke’s out of the way, let me write about the previous weekend. It was my birthday. K. got me the bestest present ever: hankerchiefs! They came in a wide variety of vibrant colors and materials. I won’t describe them all (Lest this post ends up being a grand re-opening, grand closing for my blog), suffice to say, the best had my name/initials stitched into the corner, and the absolute best featured a blue sky pattern with white clouds, and lyrics to “I Love New York in June” written across with acrylic pen.

K. also got me a light pen, for when I’m watching a movie in the theater, and want to take notes. Finally, when we got back to the family compound in Sheepshead Bay, she made me a carrot cake. Not some wussy, Betty Crocker, pre-packaged carrot cake, either. A cake from scratch, recipe taken from The Dessert Bible! K. will probably tell you that we split the labor between us fifty-fifty, but I think that’s generous. I merely mixed dry ingredients, while she did all the tough stuff.

After enjoying the moist, dense, cream cheese-frosted carrot cake, we heard explosions in the distance. Glancing out the nearby window, we saw fireworks bursting in mid-air from the direction of Coney Island. Since my birthday falls somewhat adjacent to that of our great country, fireworks were hardly a surprise. Still, to see them so close… We climbed up to the roof of the house, K. set a towel over the warm tar, and we enjoyed the free incendiaries. Man, were we exhausted by the end of the evening. Thank goodness birthdays only come once a year…

So K.’s birthday happens to be the day right after mine. Despite some slight birthday hangover, we managed to have the best time possible. We took the subway down to Coney Island (A mere ten minutes on the Q train) to watch the annual Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest. The actual race was neck-and-exploding-neck up until the closing minutes, when reigning champion Kobayashi ate himself a comfortable margin. Forty-nine hot dogs in twelve minutes easily outpaced the closest challenger, a petite woman who only managed to scarf down a scant thirty-seven. All in all, the event was a lot of fun. I managed to get an unhealthy-looking tan, even after applying a generous layer of sunblock. But the best part of the hot dog eating contest had to be the unbridled enthusiasm of the emcee, who ascended above the crowds in what looked like a cherry-picker with a Nathan’s tablecloth draped over it.

Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” blaring in the background, he hyped the impending event with such non-sequiters as, “Here, in America, even when we are standing still, we are moving forward into history!” He also referred to Kobayashi and his three closest combatants as, “The Four Horsemen of the Esophagus.”

Once evening came, we went to a restaurant opening hosted by a friend of K.’s co-worker. We ate very well, and even did some slow dancing. At the end of the night, K. told me it had been a great birthday. I was glad. I know that gift-wise, I had not come close to equaling her in thoughtfulness and creativity. Hopefully, she recognized that I made a sincere effort, which outweighs the questionable results. And I’m sure she knows that what I lack in brain, I sometimes make up for in heart. For example, if she were to fall ill with, oh, let’s say, a stomach virus, no question I’d take good care of her.

Again, thank God birthdays only come once a year…