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2004-02-09 @ 8:32 p.m.
the turkey fairy visits my ass

My birthday isn't until Thursday, but I decided to let my legion of fans begin the celebration early. Wasn't that magnanimous of me? I even told Married Guy that my aunt and uncle were taking me out to a birthday lunch today so he might consider scheduling early, so he can get Maximum Wittykitty Coverage during Wittykitty Birthday Week.

See how delusional you get in the waning days of your 45th year?

But today was a good. Very good. I had woke up feeling like crap about my life. Almost 46 and nothing to show for it. No husband. No kids. No house. No life. I was about ready to weep for next 6 or 7 hours.

But then my aunt called and said she and my uncle wanted to take me out for a birthday lunch at this place that specializes in turkey.

Turkey and mashed potatoes. Turkey cutlets. Turkey dressing. Turkey soup. Turkey fudge sundaes.

And it was served buffet-style. Although theoretically, I could have been hooked up to a turkey gravy IV and never left my seat.

But I did take full advantage of the BUFFET thing, as in 3 trips to the long steaming vessels of turkeyness... with each return trip brimming with turkeyosity, and the accompanying buttermilk biscuits, homemade applebread and cinnamon applesauce.

I'm always up for the proverbial free lunch. Always.

And I also always enjoy the company of my aunt and uncle. They've been married for over 50 years and still hold hands. They represent everything I ever wanted. Husband. Home. Family. But alas, I'm me, and I only get to enjoy this from across the table.

I did head up to the buffet one last time to grab some cookies. And as I was heading back, little did I know that I was being surreptitiously followed by a crew of "happy birthday" singing Amish waitresses. Frook! I hate when people sing happy birthday to me.

But it was hard not to feel loved when a bunch Amish waitress women came out and sang a birthday song which included the phrase, "And the turkey fairies will come too."

And of course everybody in the restaurant (average age 76), had to join in, and then they aimed a Polaroid camera at me, and SNAPPED a picture.

Yes, my friends...that is definitely the "I'm horrified that people are singing to me in a public restaurant" look. Hi! Gulp.

of course, it's not quite as terrifying as it used to be when I was a kid. My mother used to do this to me every year. The public restaurant birthday singing. It got so I would practically make her promise and sign it in blood, that she wasn't going to do it this year, and then she would always nail me.

But today wasn't too bad.

After lunch I had to pick up a package that some postal organization had chosen not to deliver. Because I didn't put my glasses on, I just assumed it was from UPS, and went there. Whoops...wrong place.

USPS, bitch, get your glasses on.

So then I had to travel all the way across town to find MY post office. Its not even vaguely near my house and it took almost 15 minutes to find it down some maze-like industrial area.

But it was definitely worth it. It was a huge box from my gay friend in Manhattan.

Remember earlier in the week when I was complaining big old selfish tears about how nobody ever got me anything I wanted?

Well, my friend nailed every single present! He knows me so well.

He gave me the DVDs from "All That Jazz" (we loved that movie together as teenagers and had seen it like 10 times) and then "Manhattan", which is my favorite Woody Allen movie.

And "G" knows this, and it was especially special because a year ago November when I was down visiting him, he had taken me down to this really tony neighborhood in Manhattan overlooking the Queensboro Bridge. We were there around midnight, and kept walking and walking. And I was like, where are we going? And he finally said, "Oh, here it is...".

Come to find out, it was the exact spot where the image for the MANHATTAN movie poster had been taken. And where Woody Allen tells Diane Keaton he loves her for the first time in the movie. It was so romantic for "G" to take me there at midnight. I almost felt like kissing him or something. Of course, he's gay. But it was so freakin' romantic.

Note to self: Why aren't straight men more romantic like gay men? WHY??

Anyways, there was also a CD from the new Broadway musical "Wicked" starring Joel Grey, who "G" and I have seen together quite a few times. And he also sent a wine bottle candle, which is way cool (fragrant I like...check!) and also the Steve Martin novel "The Pleasure of my Company".

I've already checked out the first paragraphs of it, and it looks hilarious...

"This all started because of a clerical error. Without the clerical error, I wouldn't have been thinking this way at all; I wouldn't have had time. I would have been too preoccupied with the new friends I was planning to make at Mensa, the international society of geniuses. I'd taken their IQ test, but my score came back missing a digit. Where was the 1 that should have been in front of the 90? I fell short of genius category by a full 50 points, barely enough to qualify me to sharpen their pencils. Thus I was rejected from membership and facing a hopeless pile of red tape to correct the mistake."

Heh, heh. Sounds great.

So when I got home he was on an Instant Message and I thanked him. I told him I almost cried when I saw the MANHATTAN DVD, because of our night together at the Queensboro Bridge and he said, "Yup, I know. Thats why I sent it!"

I was about ready to ask him to marry me (AGAIN!!!), but then I remembered he was a gay and already had a boyfriend in Manhattan. So damn. Foiled again.

So after that I read Married Guy e-mail again, in which he offered to come get me Thursday for my birthday massage. (I had told him about my car trouble). And knowing him, he will probably also do something else special as well. He always makes me feel important, in some way, on my birthday. Always.

So that concludes Day One of Wittykitty Birthday week. Don't know if they will all be this good...I mean with Amish waitresses singing about Turkey Fairies and all, but I can only hope.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty