It’s true. My birthday, the twenty-second of March is upon us once again and some of you have already been incredibly generous. Normally I’m a bit more vocal about my birthday for the entire month of March but there hasn’t been a lot to celebrate. But we’re going to make up for that in the coming days. We are at T minute seven days for you to get your good wishes in.
Gifts for my birthday
I’ve received some truly wonderful gifts already, including some gorgeous earrings from my beloved pilot and from my Jewelry Bitch, Ryan (Yes I promise pictures will follow). A fantastic new coffee maker, which is always apropos considering how many have perished in my employ. Four of you have sent me coffee so I’m sitting pretty on about ten pounds of coffee (I’ll be out again in three weeks, mark my words). There’ve been a few others, such as shoes, bags, a subscription to PornHub, two new dildoes, and a new lube for me to try. I cannot begin to thank you for your generosity as I come up on my forty-fourth birthday.
Away from home birthday
This isn’t something I’d consider common, but this year I’ve been missing home quite a bit. My birthday always brings a sense of melancholy whenever I’m away from home but this year, it seems particularly difficult. Now, there are a few reasons why this could be.
- The Dropkick Murphys song about the Boston Marathon Bombing does a number on me every time I hear it. And yes, I could take it out of my rotation but that’s some pansy-arsed answer.
- It’s been about five years since we moved down here to Florida. As I have said to many of you on the phone, Florida is trying to kill me. Between the renal failure, the glaucoma, and the e coli, I’m not sure I can take much more “Florida”
- The attitudes of the people down here are terrifyingly Neolithic. Just yesterday, on the National School Walkout day, I proudly wore my “March For Our Lives” t-shirt while I was running to the store for a quick errand. I decided to stop and splurge on a manicure and pedicure and, the entire time I was in the shop, there were two women who seemed about my age, pointedly trying not to stare.
Now, in their defense, I am not your “typical” woman about town. I’m six-foot-one and change (I’m a breath under seventy-four inches) and I’m used to being stared at. Then they started talking about “the dyke” and I assumed they were talking about me but then, a news piece came on the air about Emma Gonzalez and they started tittering over “that skinhead dyke”. I’ll spare you the details but I’m not welcome back at that nail salon again and those two women left in tears.
The birthday celebrations
You still have time to share in the joy. You can:
- Visit my wish list and buy a birthday gift.
- You can call me and wish me a happy birthday.
- You could even do a call with myself and Meredith, my birthday twin.
- Catch me on Twitter (@AProperTease).
- Arrange for a customized erotic fiction.