It's My Birthday:

It's Still My Birthday:

Let me begin by thanking everyone for his or her warm heartfelt sincerest sentiments regarding and in commemoration of my day of birth. Thank you, thank you all, thanks from the bottom of my heart, thanks again, thanks.

The early evening was spent with a business acquaintance and later we went to the appropriately named The Other Side or as I like to call it The Old Gay Man Disco. First let me just say that my charming escort Craig was the handsomest of the entire population of silver fox gentlemen in the world. Anyway the crowd at this establishment is always over forty and it was nice showing up with an unobtainable previously before unseen unattached hottie who’s appeal reaches across gender lines. The rare gay handsome dandy in his natural habitat, women and men throwing themselves in his path. Stepping over the carnage ever so gracefully he joined me at the corner of the bar for all to witness. Divine.

A decidedly audible hush fell over the audience that was busily punching out numbers on their bingo cards. Not kidding. The festivities were being presided over by a one Lauren Mitchell, the bingo drag queen emcee. Honestly I knew that old girl back when she was still a boy and who in their right mind changes her moniker to the un-drag like surname Mitchell?. She was done up rather fancily with her own hair slicked back and an enormous blonde fall attached wearing a newly discarded sequin gown. It’s Mardi Gras season and a girl never wears the same gown twice so the illusion artists’ get the hand-me-downs.

You can all imagine with me as I remember the throngs of old faces that suddenly appeared, “Oh I haven’t seen you in ages, and what brings you out this evening?” Which I responded in my head with, “Yes it apparently has been ages judging by the lines on your face since I saw you last and What brought me out tonight? You mean whom darling? Craig, his name is Craaay’g. and what brought me out of reclusivity? Why it’s my birthday of course...How old am I? I‘m 55 years old today.” I always lie up. Then with bewilderment they always say, “You look good!” I won't go into sordid details because it’s fairly obvious that I’m an easy whore but it was a lovely lovely evening.

























In other exciting news and as frequent commenter Mitzi reminded me, it was Farrah’s birthday today. We share so much in common, Farrah and I, both being Aquarians. Just a scant eighteen years separate the two of us, we both enjoy frosting our hair, having dysfunctional relationships, and possessing a raving beauty that needs to be toned down in order for others not to feel uncomfortable around us. It’s a curse really. Farrah has visited my dreams upon occasion. It all started when she skateboarded her way into my adolescent (television friends) life. Once when I cleaned out a storage room to make a clubhouse she and Lee Majors visited me there where she perched herself on a ledge that ran around the room. She recently visited me in dream-state where I escorted her to a Hollywood party and she nervously clutched at my arm preventing me from circulating. I’m overdue for a Farrah dream.

As you all know if I can’t be Gene Tierney then I am Farrah Fawcett. As Farrah is in a battle for her life with her demons and her cancer, I look to each day with Farrah as a special little gift. Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to Farrah, Happy birthday to Farrah Fawcett Majors O'neeeee’al, Happy birthday to ME...and you.



























Oh and I received the most wonderful present. My very own Butt Rub T-shirt. I can’t wait to wear it out one evening. Just for the record and for those that are interested in such things, On my birthday I wore the palest of pink fine-line dress shirt with a pink and blue rep tie. Navy blue blazer with brass buttons, faded distressed jeans and tasseled loafers. I know it was ever so chic and could only have been improved with the appearance of Farrah breezing through the swinging doors with a giant horse shoe made of flowers that she tossed across the room and around my neck in a perfect ringer. I’ll settle for the effortless attentions afforded by the handsome Craaay’g.

Trapped Like A Rat:

So it will be my birthday this coming Saturday. I’m to be 44. I know I know time just keeps ebbing away. I feel just like that lady in Logan’s Run who’s running away from the Sandmen. Trapped like a rat with beady eyes and nervous gestures.

“There’s been some terrible error my life clock must have broken in some way I’m nowhere near 30 I’m 22 I should be green did you hear me GREEN! Let me go let me go...”

I should have renewed on the carousel when I had the chance. Now I’ll be running from the 22-year-old Sandmen for the rest of my short miserable life. They wish all the 40 year olds dead. I swear it on a stack of bibles, as the lord Jesus Christ up in heaven above is my witness.

One day you are 39 bopping along contemplating tattoos and hip wardrobe purchases and the next day you are 40. Well no one told me that turning 40 was like receiving leprosy. Honestly anyone under 40 has built in radar... they can smell 40. They stay away from you in droves. Tis a pity though as I’ve always preferred older men but suddenly I am an older man. All of the older men sit around drooling over younger 22ish men and the 22ish men date their own age group. It’s a vicious circle. I have to go now the nurse just informed me that my room is ready at the Azalea Trace Assisted Living Facility and Old Gay Man Disco.