«Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..»

What a day! My phone line has been hot since around midnight last night, and there are still best wishes ticking in by the hour. My 23rd birthday didn’t start off very well, though. This morning between 2 and 3 am I was busy taking care of one of the girls in my habitat, who came home intoxicated beyond recognition in a state of je ne sais quoi. There’d been some shit going on in the street, but that’s all I could get out of her.
At three thirty I got up to take a leak having drunk all that coffee and pear liqueur at a dinner with my mother and a friend, and when I got outside my bedroom she was still lying there, in a heap on the floor. Sitting and sleeping in her own barf.
Right, I thought to myself, time to score some karma points.

I slowly got her awake and she totally agreed with getting her into bed. But in that state she would agree with anything and any bed at all. She still had on her pointy shoes. Being the responsible guy that I am (when I’m sober) I got a good grip and lifted her up on her feet. She gave me a look of "How dare you?". I shrugged and smiled. It had HONESTLY not been my intention to cop a feel in so doing. I was so busy getting her up from the floor that I forgot she had tits. Having said that, I can share with all of you that they were excellent tits. I asked her whether her dorm room was locked.
"Locked? That door? No, just check this out!" she said triumphantly and opened her door.
"Well, no problem, then.." I said with all the intonation I could put into my voice.
She took the hint and got to bed. I found a bucket and cleaned up the barf.
Hah! You didn’t see that one coming, did you, pervert?

This morning I enjoyed the sun, the children playing in the playground, the father and son walking slowly around the neighborhood and the worn-out jet-trash setting a hit in the park. That was one naked lady I could’ve been without so soon after breakfast.
You might think I’m without a heart, but I’m not. On the contrary, I think my heart is too big. That’s why I get into tan mucho problemos. But you can’t sit down and have a chat with someone putting a hit.
There weren’t many people in my café, so I thought I could finally get some reading done. In the Easter, Oslo is completely empty except for those who don’t have a cabin at the coast or in the mountain, and for those who are just piss poor. Like myself. I had brought with me Hegel’s Ethics of Recognition by Williams, and sat down with my notebook and a cup of coffee.

Then the phone rang.
It was my grandmother from the north. Good geez, I had never thought she’d call. She was snowed in, apparently, and was killing time watching the nice weather in the south on television. It suffice to say she lives just a couple of hours from the Russian border.
"Thank you, take care and have a nice Easter."

Finally I could get some reading done.
Then the phone rang.

I think you get the draft. The entire day has been like a day at the office, answering politely to every birthday message I receive, take note to be nice, and hang up. And if I turn off the telephone completely people will think that I’m lying dead in a ditch somewhere, so if I don’t want to explain it all to the police when they arrive to pick up my dead body, I just have to put up with it. I guess I have a lot of friends. I’m breeching all kind of social understanding by posting some of them here in a translated version. That’ll show ’em. Bastards.

Oh, my God! It is past midnight!
Congratulations to you on this day of thine, hope it’s a good one, have some wine!

Beer in your glass to keep you healthy, smart and strong. Congratulations!

23 + 19 = 42!
OMG COINCIDENCE! I THINK NOT W00t W00000ttr!!1!11!!

Hurray! I think someone has a birthday today! Kisses and hugZ!

I replied the last one at 2 am in the morning just before the barfing episode, asking her to send it again when I was awake. And she did. About six times. Cheers. These random examples don’t reflect the male to female ratio, however, which was like 3 to 8. Which deserves an exclamation mark: !
Lest we forget that women move in packs. Ready to ambush any unsuspecting computer nerd or literary genius they can find. Wherever they are, at all times, in all shapes, forms and moods. With a vengeance.
Newt: They mostly come at night.. Mostly.
But there are still hours left until I was born at around 22:15 so you can use the comment form below to worship me, or to add your contribution to my headache.

Seriously, though!
23 years old???!
Next thing I do, must be to get myself a tweed jacket and start to smoke a pipe. Discussing ancient literature and raise my eyebrow at the futility of youth. Plateau and Aristotle. Life is wasted on the living. From now on, I’m going to become one of those academic, living dead that you see eying the twenty something soon-to-be-housewives in the university parks.
And parents! Watch your back, ’cause from now on I’m gonna be stalking you down to get a written permission to see your daughters under the proper supervision, in a clean, decent, Christian environment. With biscuits and tea. Curling my lip, with the holy bible under my arm and an opinion on everything that involves naked thighs and the devil’s music. No more strip joints for me…

No, but to be serious, I can remember a few years back getting to know a lot of people who were 24 at the time. And I was like damn, no, DAMN, they are old. They haven’t aged at all, though. It’s funny how often you can celebrate a girl’s 26th birthday. And you still think of them as little girls. Here I am, on the other hand, aging like I’ve got one foot in the grave. I’m ready for the old folks’ home. Yessir! Take me in, and hand me that government cheque. Don’t you know I fought for you in the war?!
23 years old? That’s going to take some time getting used to. It’s going to be hard. I never got used to being 22. Most people just assume I’m seventeen or thirty-five or something. It varies a bit with the clothes I’m wearing. Kind of like Gandalf.

Then my other grandmother called from the south. Women tend to live forever, don’t they? She phoned me to tell me that I was a grown man now, and about the same age she was when she got married. *hint hint* What’s up with grandmothers, aunts and procreation? Mind your own business, you dirty old WW2 veteran! If you think you’ll see unexpected grandchildren coming your way from this general direction you are sadly mistaken. I’m but a small-time poet having barely the money to eat. Then we talked about Hegel, Heidegger, Kierkegaard and Jesus. In general terms. Gotta love my grandmothers.

Tonight I really don’t know what to do. Kornelius owe me a bit of cash, so if he’s up for it we’ll be heading out after a quick vorspiel in some ill lit appartment somewhere in the center of Oslo. But first I’m going to lie down for about an hour to digest this brilliant roast lamb my mother made to celebrate. She gave me an introductory course in golfing worth about 2k. Brilliant! Didn’t turn out so bad after all, this birthday. If being 23 is something like this, I guess I’m gonna have to enjoy it. Kick ass. Happy Easter!

6 thoughts on “«Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..»

  1. Happy birthday man! :)
    Thanks for the monitor btw. It’s works great.

    Also, if you don’t know about PostSecret, check out postsecret.blogspot.com… Yay. :)

  2. Oh, I forgot to mention, it’s “cop a feel” although “cup a breast” is also something that can be said… mixed idioms are a bitch aren’t they?

    “Tantos problemas”

  3. Cheers! :D
    The Alphabet of Manliness said "C is fo Copping a feel" but I wasn’t sure. Cupping one sounded more natural. If it fits the cup.

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