It's My Party and I'll Strangle the Donkey If I Want To

I got to thinking today about birthdays. J.J.'s birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and I want to do something really special for him, like take him to Disneyland or the Bunny Ranch, or maybe a combination of the two. If the Bunny Ranch could come to Disneyland, that would be even more superior.

Then I realized that as you get older, birthdays become less and less awesome. Remember when you were five and you looked forward to your birthday party for months? You had to pick a theme, like Star Wars or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Enchantment Under the Sea. There were invitations to send out, a cake to choose, a skate rink to book. It was the event of the year and everyone on the playground was talking about it.

What has dawned on me in recent years is that birthdays are no longer about fun - they are about necessity. You don't get Legos and action figures when you turn 27. You get socks and, if you're lucky, your mom puts a hundred bucks in your bank account and says "go nuts." Then you take that money and use it to pay your water bill. Happy birthday...this year you have received the gift of moisture. Gone are the days of the party hats and clowns. The only way you'll ever get a cake is if you work in an office, and then the deliciousness of the cake is offset by the fact that you work in an office, so really you're just breaking even there.

The exception that proves the rule here is the Mexican birthday party, an event that lasts for weeks and involves pinatas and a six-piece mariachi band, fronted by Uncle Pablo. These birthday parties are required to take place in a public park and occur on weekends in every park within a 50-mile radius of Los Angeles. The upside to these events is that so many hundred people show up, you can easily sneak in line for some free tamales and no one will realize you're not A) a member of the family, B) Mexican, or C) wearing pants in public.

For those of us that don't benefit from Mexican birthday parties, I move we make a change. Let the little kids get new socks when they turn five. Let them spend their birthdays alone with a bottle of Whiskey, sleeping on a tarp in the living room because Sears repossessed their mattress. They get to play nonstop. Their birthday should be a time to reflect on all of the crap they haven't accomplished all year.

Meanwhile, the adults should be the ones playing pin the tail on the donkey and watching a 16-year old magician pull a stuffed rabbit out of a hat. Give us toy cars and G.I. Joes. No 5-year old appreciates a G.I. Joe; he has no opinion on the conflict in the Middle East or the sacrifices our troops make. He'll remove Joe's arms and bury him the back yard, but I will put him to good use. Give me the streamers and the balloons and the Barbie birthday cake. I deserve it. As adults, we all deserve it.

I'm out of time...and Mickey is on the phone.

This blog is dedicated and inspired by Helena Lucy White. Happy Birthday from all of us at AndrewandJJ.com!