So my birthday is in exactly two weeks, and as I brazenly solicit gifts from friends, family and complete strangers, people naturally ask what I’d like.
I’m not hard to please, honestly. Cards, flowers (I love tulips & calla lilies), money, gift cards (from any store not just the fancy ones because I’d tear a WalMart or Target card up!), jewelry and perfume (I’d adore the discontinued Trouble by Boucheron) are always welcome. Drawings, silly videos, and anything creative would also be loved. And, you can’t go wrong with Jack Daniels or any champagne (not Korbel or J. Roget but REAL champagne like Moet, Cristal, Tattinger Blanc de Blanc Rose, or even Bel-Aire Rose).
That being said, there’s something I really, really want. I’ll tell you in just a sec but first I’d like to add a bit of backstory…
My birthday is never, ever lucky in love for me. I’ve been stood up by the dates for my party not once, but TWICE! The first guy actually chose my birthday to get back with his EX! I bawled, cussed and fussed and ultimately guilted him into buying my first pair of CD turntables, so I turned those lemons into lemonade and my career as a DJ was born.
The second time was last year, and a certain someone promised he’d be there then didn’t call, didn’t show and then was so milquetoast afterward that he avoided my calls for days. Well eventually I caught up to him (if I know where you live and work you can’t hide forever, LOL) and I let him have it (verbally, but I really wanted to set him on fire), but nothing nearly as awesome as CD turntables came from it. I did get a humble apology and we’re cool because I don’t hold grudges, but I also don’t forget! The upside was that I did have fun at the Freedom Party and Bodi with my real friends who treated me to a bottle and showed me so much love, so it wasn’t a total bust but I was disappointed in the dude to say the least.
And then there was that time when I was with the Biz and he took me to the movies ON THE BUS (he had a Range Rover) then cussed at me at Grand Luxe Cafe because of who-knows-what bug jumped up his ass. Yes, yes, I know I was a fool for setting foot on the CTA and remaining with him for years afterward but I was so stupidly in love… Let’s just thank God that we both evolved and somehow managed to become the best of friends after our break-up.
Well damn it, this year it would be awesome to go on a real date. Not just any date, but THIS date.
That’s right, I want you to turn my life into a John Hughes film! Just like any self-respecting 70s/80s baby from Chicago I want to feel like Molly Ringwald when Jake Ryan finally realized she was awesome and saved what would have otherwise been a sucky day.
Bad 80’s clothes and hair are optional, but I DO have a flower crown and would gladly go to the thrift store and find an ugly bridesmaid’s dress if someone were prepared to go ALL OUT. (Tyra can tell you I don’t half step when it comes to costumes!) I’ve already got the cute, red pixie cut. You don’t have to show up in a Porsche but you must be HOT (read this as I must have told you you are hot or cute or fine or sexy). We don’t have to actually run through the dialogue but I will! And we don’t have to stage it at a church but if we did that would be so SWEET! (sweet as in awesome not sweet as in corny). Now just my luck the glass table we decided to sit on would break or if we leaned over the cake my dress would set on fire, but if you can find a wooden jawn I’d be super cautious to avoid the flames when lean in and give you the best kiss of your life.
Okay, okay we don’t have to do all that, but I would like a cute cake, with strawberries in or on it. A nice dinner somewhere with a view would suffice. Scintillating convo filled with talk of how amazingly awesome I am is a must. And you’d get major pointage if you asked me to make a wish and didn’t roll your eyes out of their sockets when I said “It already came true”. And of course I’d give you a kiss. I’m a really good kisser (do not think about the Usher kind of good kisser!) And OH how I’d love if you let someone take a picture of it so I’d have a picture to remember a birthday when a man didn’t turn into a complete asshat.
So, someone make that happen. Someone cute and cool and nice. Idris went and had a baby with someone. Questlove will be off somewhere being fabulous without me. I might be too black for Blake Griffin. So, none of my celeb crushes are going to be available. But someone out there that knows me, likes me, flirted with me, or recently met me and reads this blog to get into my quirky, odd psyche could surely make this happen. I’m worth it. You already know I’m worth it. Handle that.
Thank you. In the words of my boy Cortez Dorris, “That is all. Take care. One.”
P.S. Wait, that isn’t all. You could photoshop Idris and I over this picture and that would be almost as awesome. All I know is I’m not giving my panties to a geek!