What I Want For My Birthday

People keep asking me what I want for my birthday. I'm beginning to get frustrated with the question. What do I want, you ask? Well, that's easy. I'd like to be able to run up four flights of stairs without gasping, never spot another road-killed animal, give hugs more often, vaporize most politicians and all bureaucracy, read more books, get laid more frequently, actually convince a green plant to grow in the environs of my office, and live where I could keep a horse. None of which you can acquire in Barnes & Noble for $9.95, so don't sweat it. I mean it.

If you must, find a blank card with a goofy picture on the front and write me an anecdote that will make me laugh, not just when I read it, but when I re-read it six months later when attempting to burrow through layers of clutter to find my floor. No urban legends, cheap quotations, or Italian poets from the thirteenth century need apply. Your own writing.

Like the old guy said, Beware the Ides of March.

Jean Marie Diaz // ambar@clock.org
Last modified: Sat Jun 26 18:44:34 PDT 1999