Home » Dialogue for the Masses » Birthday Dialogue.

Birthday Dialogue.

So today is the wife’s birthday…I am going to allow her to be the center of attention.

I do not LIKE being the center of attention…

She knows this…

And I am sure this evening’s events went WAY better than she planned.  Because no one can make an ass out of themselves in quite the fashion that I can…whoo-whee…

SO….birthday dinner.  With the family.  This event is usually an EVENT unto itself.  With the Daughter, the Boy, the Sister & Niece and the Mother (of all mothers)…typically, dinner ends up with one, two or three of the kids crying and/or fighting.  It typically ends up with the adults, now including the Daughter, consuming large quantities of alcohol and me guaranteeing its the last family meal of this kind in public…and yet…we seem to keep doing this, year after year, celebration after celebration.

Why, you ask?

Because I do love my family…they drive me five kinds of insane, but they are mine.  Genetically, we are almost all the same crazy, ‘cept the wife, who willingly married into it after EXTENSIVE warnings to run away from me as quickly as she could.  (no shit…I SERIOUSLY warned her.  she loves me in spite of it. go figure)….and THIS family, we laugh until we cry and our sides are hurting…I laugh more with my family than almost anyone else I know (‘cept Kenner) and it’s the best gift in the world…my sister and my mother, will put me into tears of laughter damn near every time we are around each other.  I love my family.

Anyhoo…(I tend to ramble)…back to birthday dinner for the wife.  I made sure on top of everything else, I got the wife everything she said she wanted with the exception of one gift that she has to pick out (her camera, pervs….) and her favorite…red.velvet.cake.

They dig in…once the family gets their cake…the wife decides to share with a little boy and his father a table away.  She strolls over, visits for a split second and comes back.  It’s when she comes back, that she gets me.  REALLY gets me.  It goes a little…like…this…

the Niece:  Why’d you do that?  Who is that boy?  How old is he?

the Wife:  I wanted to share my birthday cake.  His name is Nicholas, he’s 7 1/2 and will be 8 on September 23rd. 

the Sister:  Awwww…that’s sweet of you.

Me:  Yes baby, you are sweet!  I love you!!!

{I look towards the table and make eye contact with both}

Me:  {loudly and with my hand raised in the air waving like a mad woman!} Happy Early Birthday Nicholas!!!

the Wife:  ummmm, {snicker, giggle} that’s not his name, I don’t know who he is or how old he is.  I made that shit up because the Niece was asking. {she can barely get this sentence out before dissolving into a fit of laughter…}

Me:  *blink*blink*cricket*blink*  shit….

{man and son are staring at me like I just grew a second head on my shoulder.}

the Sister:  wha-?  bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah  *snort * giggle* bwahahahahahahahahahaha…classic.  You are an idiot.

Me:  Shut up.

the Wife:  I didn’t think you would DO that!  I didn’t have enough time to ask those questions!  Did you really think I asked all that in the 5 seconds I was over there???

Me:  SHUT up.  Yes!!!

Me:  you are BOTH dicks.  {only makes them laugh louder!}

And I had to sit there….with the entire table giggling, snorting and staring at me, then back at the other table only to erupt in laughter again.

The sister is still laughing at it.

Yup….Happy Birthday honey…I have a whole year to plot, er, plan my revenge, er, your party…

2 thoughts on “Birthday Dialogue.

  1. You are my aspiration, I possess few blogs and very sporadically run out from brand :). “No opera plot can be sensible, for people do not sing when they are feeling sensible.” by W. H. Auden.

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