Well, I mean, unless you've got incredibly rich friends who give you sports cars and tropical vacations as gifts. In that case, the presents might be the best part about birthdays. But in my case, considering my most "affluent" friends are the ones who aren't currently living in dumpsters, it's totally true: The gifts aren't the best part. The best part is being surprised by how many people remember it's my birthday, and actually care. My birthday was August 1st, and for about the span of a week, I was repeatedly surprised by how many people made a point to wish me "Happy Birthday," whether by calling, emailing, text messaging, or sending their Cambodian servant boy to my door with a fruit basket.
(I was kidding about the dumpster thing. My friends mostly all have jobs and homes. No way would a person be able to afford a Cambodian servant boy if they didn't even have enough money to pay their own rent. Oh, sure, I know what you're thinking: "Cambodian servant boys come cheap, right? I mean, if they're paid at all, it's probably slave wages," and yes, of course that's true. But you still have to feed and clothe them, and that takes money, buster. Believe me, I've done the math. Hoo boy, have I done the math.)
So yes, a touching array of birthdays wishes, and heck, some really, really great gifts thrown in there as well. It would have been an excellent birthday if it ended there, but no! This year brought one extra surprise that I bet none of you got this year for your birthdays. See, up to this point, you've been reading along and thinking, "Yeah, yeah, big deal. I get calls and emails and I get gifts on my birthday, too. So you've got friends; join the club. This post sucks. I came here to read something that doesn't sound exactly like a paragraph from my own life." Patience, asswipe. Read on.
I had just made my way out of bed on the morning of my birthday, and was crawling on my hands and knees toward the coffee pot when the doorbell rang. My hand, outstretched toward the coffee filters, retracted like a slingshot as I assumed the fetal position and commenced trying to wedge myself under my fridge, whimpering like a dog. When the doorbell rings that early, it can only be johnny law coming to take me back to jail for yet another parole violation. My mind raced. How the hell did they find out I've been trafficking in Cambodian slaves? Who snitched? I knew I shouldn't have trusted that guy with the eyepatch, the one who called himself, "Chainsaw Mike." Who gives themselves nicknames like that? Rat bastard.
But my fears were put to rest once I low-crawled to the window and peeked through the blinds to see the FedEx truck. So I wasn't going back to prison after all. But still, I was perplexed. I hadn't ordered anything recently. As I accepted the envelope from the courier, I wondered, "What in God's name can this be?" For someone to spend $20 to send something to me Priority Overnight, it must be very important. Did a relative die? Is someone I love sick? Did I win a million dollars? Are my services urgently needed somewhere far away? Am I being summoned to appear in court? Did one of my exes test HIV positive? What the hell could be so important, so time sensitive?
Any guesses? Don't bother, you'd be wrong. Well, unless you guessed "cock soup," that is. Inside the envelope was this little birthday gift:
Yes, I have some very odd friends. The kind of friends who:
a) Are thoughtful enough to remember my birthday.
b) Spend a lot of time thinking about cock.
c) Are willing to spend $20 to make sure a 65 cent joke reaches its destination on time.
I don't know who conceived the idea of overnight shipping, but do you think this is what he had in mind? I picture him, whoever he was or is, feeling very self-important and do-gooderish. "Overnight shipping--this will revolutionize the way people live and do business! Important papers, transplant organs, money, prized possessions, pets, heirlooms, important projects--they can all be shipped overnight! This will save people money, earn people money, save time, save lives! And the best part: Packages of soup mix with funny-sounding double-entendre names can be shipped in just one day!"
So thank you, Wombat and Sally. I can honestly say I've never gotten an overnight delivery of cock.
I mean, I can honestly say I've never gotten cock shipped to me via FedEx.