Mem'ries...That's What Malt Liquor Is Foooooor... In which our intrepid Birthday Boy (ME!) does his best to remember his special day April 28th, 7:49 a.m. (EST): Your beloved Japhy first entered into this realm of existence, shedding light and poorly executed blogs onto this fair fair little planet. The year was 1979, Jimmy Carter was in charge (heh heh) and Ma Japhy (the first name being the ancestral signifier in my clan) looked upon her darling bouncing blue-haired boy and turned to Pa Japhy and said "When's 'Welcome Back Kotter' on next?" Flash forward twenty-four long years. Now back up two days, since nobody celebrates their birthday on a Monday. Now, for those who couldn't make it (Jill- I'm looking at you. Teleportation troubles my lily-white ass!) I'm going to recount my birthday party for you. Unfortunately, I remember none of it (or at least that's the conceit this blog is based on), but I just got back from the one-hour photo lab, where the disposable cameras that I gave to my Smizmar and Mme. Producer-Face (nicknames make other feel excluded!) have come back. Their job: To document my party for posterity. So, without further ado, I will tell you what happened on my birthday, based on what these telling documents provide. Roll #1: We start with Mr. Producer-Face's roll. It looks like I started the evening by being blinded by a big white flash of light. More accurately, it seems my shoulder was the target, snappily outfitted in a herringbone jacket that appears to fit just right. Next, I am sitting on a bench next to my Smizmar (Google it, if you must). My Smizmar is smiling smarmily, I look on in terror. Next it appears I was in some kind of tropical forest with chandeliers. The men (and there are a lot of them, it seems) are all dressed either like extras for "Rushmore" or an Annie Lennox video. Strange. Wherever could this place be? It seems then that I attacked Mr. Producer-Face, beer in hand in hand in mouth, who was busy telling people, "I know what you are" (It's coming back to me). Next people around me, people like Fiona and Sammi and Dyann and her long-lost-brother Denver, all drink. And here's some more pictures of people drinking. And some more. Sammi drinking. Dyann drinking. Little plastic red straws in little plastic cups. My drinks were all in glass. And Fi called my drink (a gin and tonic), "bourgeois"! Whatever plastic cup girl! Oh, here's some more shots of people drinking. My Smizmar looks drunk and is giving the hang-ten sign. Go Wildcat Go! There's an awful picture of me here. I look like a crackhead. Actually, in all these pictures, I look like a crackhead. More drinking pics. Oh look! My Smizmar is necking Fiammi (no small feat, come to think about it, considering the nature of Fiammi). Some Smizmar you are. Next, I'm outside smoking with my former roommate, Ms. Bette Davis. (You're still reading this?) I look like a crackhead, but it looks like someone gave me a rose. Was it Bette? No, no- Ms. Davis only brings herself, and that's enough. She talks about how she is dating an eighteen year old and how he thinks she's a homophobe. Poor Bette. Next, I am drinking again. Ah- here we enter into a series of shots. It seems I was serenaded by a group of Amazons. Large, statuesque Amazons in heels.Picture after picture. Why, Mr. Producer-Face seems to have gone crazy with taking pictures of these statuesque creatures. So very many pictures. All this film. It seems Mr. Producer-Face loves those Amazons. Thank God, I have all these pictures of Amazons to remind me of my birthday. Oooh, look! drunk people that I know! They're all having the kind of fun that comes from a .09 blood-alcohol level! Huzzah! Roll #2: On to my Smizmar's photo's. My Smizmar , being a professional Smizmographer, manages to get the smizography in focus far more than Jared..er- Mr. Producer-Face. There's some photo where I am in shock. I think it has something to do with one of the Amazons. Perhaps it was Hedda Amazon. Oh look, my Smizmar is taking photos of himself! There's Denver, Fiona and Sammi each in a pose that perfectly encapsulates their personality. If only I had decided to get the Photo CD, you could see what I mean. They all look great! I'm really white it seems. So chalky. Do I really look like this? God, I'm old and white! It gets better though- because now, I am singing. But not really singing, because I am drunk and this is karaoke. Somehow I manage to turn "Suddenly Seymour" into a hard rock song. What the hell is musical-theatre doing at my party?!? There's so much beer on the karaoke table, but look, look, Jared drinks it all down. I look so weird. Everyone else looks great. I'm a freak, I'm a chalky, white, old, freak! To hone in the point, my Smizmar and Producer-Face sing me a finale of, "Space Oddity", showing me that the path of all chalky white, old freaks. Dyann, seeing a buxom young woman in lycra on the karaoke screen, screams out, "That's Ground Control!" That's Ground Control indeed, Dyann. I'll never forget you. I'll never forget all of you who came to my 24th! Except for Charlie, since he's only in one blurry picture and is half-cut off. I'll forget you. The rest of you, however- thank you so much for making my birthday so unforgettable. Now that I had these rolls of film developed, that is. Fer the record- I loved loved loved loved loved my birthday party and loved loved loved all who attended for making it so great- even Jared! P.S.- For a more cogent description of my bday celebration, I suggest you check out Ms. So-Much-Modern-Time, who I am forever indebted to. I owe you taquitos galore!

posted by Japhy at 4/28/2003 05:08:00 PM || #