Sunday, Aug. 15, 2004
Happy Fat Birthday to Napolean Bonaparte, Princess Anne, Ben Affleck, and me, posted at 7:49 p.m.
Epiphany in Baltimore has moved to epiphanyinbaltimore.blogspot.com There's this old man who comes into the restaurant. His name is Dmytrov and he's 79 years old. He comes in every day and asks, "Do you want to know what the date is?" and we concur and he tells us in all its glory. He always gets two cups of decaffeinated coffee with ice and skim milk, and everything he buys is on credit, meaning we write it in the notebook and his nursing home account is charged once a month. He's been coming there for years and is a bit senial but we all like him. He writes all new employees his biography (he's from the Czech Republic and is a former chemist at Hopkins) in shaky old man handwriting on tiny sheets of paper he staples together, and knows all of us by name and big smile.I told him yesterday that my birthday was going to be today. So, when he came in today, I asked him what the day was. He remembered, it was my birthday. Since he loves dates, I asked him to guess what year I was born. Here is our conversation:
"Well, tell me how old you are and I'll be able to tell you the year."
"Well, that's no fun, then you'll know the answer right away. You have to guess. How old am I?"
"35"
"Ha ha. Nope. Lower."
"33"
"Nope, Dmitrov, I haven't hit 30 yet."
"Oh. 29 then."
"(getting less amused) Nope. Go lower."
"...."
"I'm 27, Dmitrov."
"Oh." Laughs, smiles. The boss comes down and says, "Gosh, I'm afraid to ask how old he thinks I am."
Then, he comes over to me and whispers in my ear.
"Do you want to know why I thought you were older?"
I thought he was going to tell me my thinning hair, or maybe even the fact that I'm a teacher.
"Because. You are FAT."
(My thought: You old bastard. Oh yeah? Well, you stare blankly into space for hours on end and barely know your ass from your elbow and don't know that everyone is actually laughing at you and not with you and god I hope I'm not such a burden when I'm as old as you are.)
I say: "Dmitrov, that's not nice."
"But I told you quiet so no one else could hear."
Ugh.
Now the memory of my 27th birthday will forever be etched with being called fat by an old man. Sure, he's a bit senial and killed his wife and his kids don't talk to him, but it still sucks and does nothing to help my tenuous and unhealthy body image. I don't have anything else to say about that, really. I used to be really fat, yes, but I lost 115 pounds, and gained about 20 of it back, and now have lost 5 of that, but I still feel a bit hefty, and am working hard but the shit seems to be sticking right now.
Otherwise, the birthday was good. My friends from work took me out for a drink afterwards, and a few more who had to stay working wrote "Happy Birthday" on tiny sheets of paper and made a banner and taped it to my front windshield while I was at the bar. Good people. Gale called and sang Happy Birthday. Mom called, Heidi called, Dad called, and cousin Vicky called. All good.
***
Me, Mr. Accepting, Mr. I-like-Rosie-Perez's-voice-because-it's-Unique, Mr. I like that student that no one else can stand, Mr. the world and me are at one. Usually, that's me. I like everyone. Genuinely. Well, I cannot stand this new girl at work. She's a teacher in the county.
Something about her, though... she is one of the most irritating people I have ever met. She's nice, even. That's why I can't understand it. My skin grates when she's around. First, she's a complete and total dingbat. I think that's the biggest thing. She is dumb as a box of rocks. There are other little things, too (Why do I know that she, a second grade teacher, is a regular pot smoker? I mean, I have no problem with the practice in general and, in fact, have enjoyed partaking. But, that shouldn't be a badge of honor and the questions answered on whether she needs a cigarette break on day one shouldn't be, "Well, I don't smoke... cigarettes at least. Ha ha ha ha." What an idiot.)
She's also very needy and cannot shut up. What's worse, is that she wants me. Thrice comfirmed. I can only tell when the ones I don't have any interest in have an interest in me.
She's coming out for my birthday celebration tomorrow - please, god, don't have her come alone because I don't want to be stuck talking to her - and I'd say it would be awkward if I weren't going to be so drunk. And she might just make me get there a bit faster. Seadragon, see if you can find her tomorrow. There's your inside scoop.
***
For those of you who think I'm a nice guy, I hope those last couple of paragraphs - of which I'm not terribly proud - dissuade you. Most of the time, I am, though, I swear.