the way it should be

I’m very excited about Birthday Week.

Eric has extended my birthday into a week long event.  It started with a surprise party the night before my birthday, and has continued on into this morning, when I found that he had cleaned my car and gotten my oil changed, and I can only assume it will continue on until this Sunday.

I tell you, there’s nothing better than being all grumpy on your way to the car and then finding a present on your front seat.

My new chair gets here tomorrow.  That means I’ve got some cleaning and house re-arranging to do tonight… well, this afternoon, really, since I have a show tonight, and by the time I get home I’m sure I’ll be too pooped to do anything but sleep.

Because I’m going to tonight’s after party.  Oh, yes, sir.

Let’s check the e-mail bag… oh, here’s today’s joke e-mail that is circling the Earth as we speak:

IF MEN REALLY RULED THE WORLD…

>>
>>  Any fake phone number a girl gave you would automatically forward
>>  your call to her real number.
>>
>>  Nodding and looking at your watch would be deemed an acceptable
>>  response to “I love you”
>>
>>  Hallmark would make “Sorry, what’s your name again?” cards.
>>
>>  When your girlfriend really needed to talk to you during the
>>  game, she would appear in a little box in the corner of the screen
>>  during a time-out.
>>
>>  Birth control would come in ale or lager.
>>
>>  Each year, your raise would be pegged to the fortunes of the NFL
team
>>  of your choice.
>>
>>  The funniest guy in the office would get to be CEO.
>>
>>  “Sorry I’m late, but I got hammered last night” would be an
>>  acceptable excuse for tardiness.
>>
>>  At the end of the workday, a whistle would blow and you’d jump
>>  out of your window and slide down the tail of a brontosaurus and
right
>>  into your car.
>>
>>  It’d be considered harmless fun to gather 30 friends, put on horned
>>  helmets, and go pillage a nearby town.
>>
>>  Lifeguards could remove citizens from beaches for violating the
public
>>  ugliness ordinance.
>>
>>  Tanks would be far easier to rent.
>>
>>  Instead of a beer belly, you’d get beer biceps.
>>
>>  Instead of an expensive engagement ring, you could present your
>>  wife-to-be with a giant foam hand that said, “You’re # 1!”
>>
>>  Valentine’s Day would be moved to February 29th so it would only
>>  occur in leap years.
>>
>>  On Groundhog’s Day, if you saw your shadow, you’d get the day off
>>  to go drinking.  Mother’s Day, too.  St. Patrick’s day, however,
would
>>  remain exactly the same.  But it would be celebrated every month.
>>
>>  “Cops” would be broadcast live, and you could phone in advice to
>>  the pursuing cops…or to the crooks.
>>
>>  Regis and Kathi Lee would be chained to a cement mixer and pushed
>>  off the Golden Gate Bridge for the most lucrative pay-per-view event
in
>>  world history.
>>
>>  The victors in any athletic competition would get to kill and eat
>>  the losers.
>>
>>  The only show opposite “Monday Night Football” would be “Monday
>>  Night Football from a Different Camera Angle.”
>>
>>  It would be perfectly legal to steal a sports car, as long as you
>>  returned it the following day with a full tank of gas and a Little
>>  Debbie snack cake in the glove compartment.
>>
>>  Every man would get four real “Get Out of Jail Free” cards per year.
>>
>>  When a cop gave you a ticket, every smart-aleck answer you
>>  responded with would actually reduce your fine.  As in:
>>      Cop: “You know how fast you were going?”
>>      You: “All I know is, I was spilling my beer all over the place.”
>>      Cop: “Nice one.  That’s $10 off.”
>>
>>  Faucets would run Hot, Cold and 100 Proof.
>>
>>  Daisy Duke shorts would never again go out of style, but would be
>>  accompanied by a “Should you be wearing these”-gauge.
>>
>>  Telephones would automatically cut off after 30 seconds of
>>  conversation, provided that you actually made it to 30 seconds.
>>

mwah, mwah, mwah!  It’s fun to laugh at the men, isn’t it?  How charming.  Not to be outdone, though, I’ve composed a list of my own:

IF PAMIE RULED THE WORLD

There would be an extra hour in the day that could not be scheduled for anything other than sleep time.

Saturdays and Sundays would be longer days than the work week.

Coffee would be ready INSTANTLY instead of me having to wait FOREVER for it to drip out.  I mean, COME ON!

When I ask my cat, “What’s wrong,” sometimes the he has to answer, “Pamie, I’m a little bored.  I’ve been chasing that leopard-print mousey all morning long, and I sort of hit my lip on that metal ball on the end of its tail, and now my heart just isn’t in it anymore.  Could we watch some Jenny Jones?”

Burgers come without ketchup and mustard and pickles.  If you want those vile things on your sandwich, you ask for them, and then I don’t get all the eye-rolling when I don’t assume the establishment drowns the food in those condiments without you asking.

The Goo Goo Dolls make a public apology for being alive.

Hallmark makes, “I’m thinking about you, and I’m thinking it was your birthday recently, am I right?” cards.  Inside they say, “Please accept this substitute for a present that required real initiative and thought.  I’m fucking busy.”  And Hallmark just sent them out to people automatically whenever they were due.

Johnny Depp must star in the sequel to Boogie Nights.

It would be very common to see dance numbers in the office hallways during lunch hour.

Every company would have the “office jester” where some guy would walk around the offices/cubicles to make people laugh.  And I’m not talking about Steve from Marketing who thinks he’s funnier than John Leguizamo, but someone with a real talent to make people laugh, who had complete power to say anything to make a joke– like, “Hey, Sally sure looks chipper today, just full of pep and spunk, huh?  Oh, she did go home with the Vice Pres. last night, didn’t she?  I guess she is full of spunk then.”

 

except the office jester would be funny.  it’s not my job, dude.

 

Elevator music must always be Radiohead’s OK Computer album.  No exceptions.

Cats would all agree that it was time they got off their lazy asses and figured out how to use the toilet for something other than one giant water bowl.  They take turns flushing, and find out that they think it’s much more sanitary, and actually enjoy using it so much they offer to clean it once a week.

Pizza delivery orders can be given telepathically.

Speaking of telepathy:  if you ever read something in a book and decided to try it out and see if it would work for you, if you really had heart and desire, it will happen for you like the character in the book.  Like the one month I tried to get the ceiling fan to spin just like Carrie could– since I tried hard enough, it would work for me.

Chocolate would be a food group.

The Onion would be a daily magazine.

People with cell phones must always announce to everyone in the room who is calling them so that we all know who is responsible for interrupting our film, our show, our meeting, or our waiting room.  If anyone asks, the recipient of the call must hand the phone over so someone can “speak to him.”

If you get cut off in traffic, you take down the license plate of the bastard who screwed up your day.  By punching the plate into www.takethatyoubastard.com you automatically become a part of their Christmas Card list, and they have to send you a picture of their hideous family and wish you and yours a happy holiday season.   “Merry Christmas from the Fartheads who Don’t Know How to Use A Fucking Turn Signal.”

MTV would just play videos.  That’s it.  Videos.  MTV can create another channel for all of its “Fine Programming.”

Crispin Glover could be hired out for parties.

No matter what size the skirt, the tag would always say “6.”

You could choose your haircolor that day by washing it with a colored shampoo.  Styling would be done by sheer willpower.

Raises at work would be determined by your amount of Beastie Boys knowledge.

Did I mention weekly pay raises?  I meant to.

Every photography lab has a team of highly skilled professionals who go over each set of proofs and decide whether each and every picture is “decent enough” to be seen in public.  If your eyes are closed, or your bra strap is showing, or you are making a face like the Elephant Man, the picture is automatically sent to the incinerator.  Also, if you lose weight or have plastic surgery, any photos that remain of you from your earlier, harder times self-destruct.

Arbor Day is changed to Ardor Day and on that day every year every single person who has ever been in love with you must send you a token of devotion, reminding you of how wonderful you are and how they hold absolutely no grudges against you.  They understand that you had to move on, and congratulate you on how much better you’ve done for yourself with your new choice.

Some days, it rains candy.

Birthday week is 365 days long.