I'm staring right down the barrel of my forty-five. April 24th is my birthday... and I'm turning 45 years old.
Don't wig out. There is no need to alert law enforcement. I don't have a shiny gun in my hands. I just found it an entirely dramatic thing to say. Attention seeking behavior is one of my top four character flaws.
My birthdays are never what I expect them to be and frankly never quite what I want them to be. In my head, April 24th is cause for great celebration requiring a tuxedo clad swing band, a cake that has at least ten tiers and one gilded horse drawn carriage which, of course, will deliver me to my party amidst an enthusiastic throng of well wishers.
Never happens. I think it's because my husband has no idea what a throng is. Or maybe he knows exactly what a throng is but has experienced some difficulty in finding anything in excess of a mildly interested throng.
In the absence of a shindig that Oprah would want to attend, I am giving myself ten birthday wishes for my forty-fifth year. That's right. I am granting myself my own wishes, which I always felt genies on TV should have done. Not giving yourself what you want when you hold all the power seems a silly thing for a genie to have missed. Turns out it's also a silly thing for the OCD Chick to have missed.
Wish #10 - I wish I had ruby red and insanely sparkly red shoes. (These will do nicely.) They are a highly practical thing for me to grant myself as I will need them when I attend the gala.
Wish #9 - I wish I would be invited to a gala. I should also probably add a co-wish addendum to this one by saying I wish I knew what a gala is and whether insanely sparkly red shoes are appropriate footwear for such a thing. If they are not, I would like a substitute stand-by wish which is a case of Moon-Pies.
Wish #8 - I wish for a trip to the beach. Not just any beach though. North Myrtle Beach. I've seen lots of beaches and for my Southern girl self, North Myrle is the place I am most comfortable. I also enjoy the fact that I'll likely be the only chick on the sand sporting insanely sparkly red shoes.
Wish #7 - A monkey.
Wish #6 - I wish I would never have to use, type, look at or spell that number.
Wish #5 - World peace. (Had to be done. I don't need any bad mojo stank all over me.)
Wish #4 - I wish to go to Houston in the next couple months to see and collaborate with my Texas honeys Ryland and Kristi. Since both of them are exceedingly blonde and beautiful and smart, my sub-co-wish to this wish is that I would trick them into thinking I too am smart. So smart in fact that they have to carry a dictionary with them when I speak just to follow the conversation.
Wish #3 - I wish Kristi and Ryland would not be hatin' me because I show up wearing insanely sparkly red shoes they don't even have. Don't hate girls.
Wish #2 - I wish that anyone who has said mean things to me in the last 24 hours to 24 years would sprout back hair akin to a wool sweater; fall down someplace that is packed with people who will point and laugh; and be licked in the face by a smelly homeless woman who just ate something she found on the ground.
Wish #1 - I wish that this time next year I am here with a face full of Botox to talk about the exciting new sitcom, book,movie and line of action figures based on Wiping the Crazy off My Face. If I were you I'd go ahead and pay for yours now by sending me $99.95 per action figure. Hey, that's not bad at all since the OCD Sher doll is anatomically correct.
I won't have to wish any more...