As I have probably said in the past, I have a small, close net group of friends, two of which I have known since I was eighteen (they are the two that I trust the most). These are a group of people that have been there for every major event I have ever experienced in my life; birthdays, holidays, graduation and art shows. Through sickness and health till death do us part…It is like a freaking marriage, I tell you.
Sunday, we went out to celebrate the births of two of my friends. I am happy and looking forward to this event, because I enjoy it when we all get together and plus I know that I have given each of them the gift that they want and can use. Finally I got someone to listen to my request and tell me exactly what it is they would like for their birthday.
Let me explain. I hate to shop! Hate it with a passion. I have a get in/get out mentality, much like the way I approach sex (just kidding). I don’t even like to shop for my damn self, so you can image how I feel shopping for others. I know my friends, but I hating trying to guess what they would like and can actually use. To me the whole purpose of a gift is for it to be practical, and when I say practical I mean something that the person wants. Now, each and every one of my friends know I hate to shop and yet they normally refuse to give me the heads up on what they would like as a gift and I am left to my imagination. I can normally get a great gift but I have to venture through the whole damn store looking for something that I think fits the personality of that friend. That shit sucks. That’s why I never give their happy asses birthday cards. It is their punishment for making me spend undue time at the Mall, Targets or Wally World.
Any, the planning of the actual day we could all sit down and break bread together was not easy. Luck for me I am not a part of the planning of any birthdays. I won’t do it, don’t ask. Just tell me when and where and I will be there. Do I have to work that night? Probably, don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. See? I’m easy. But one of the friends works weird hours and the other one, well she has hated birthdays since we turned twenty-six. They depress her, but we manage to talk her ass into being a part of this little thing we like to do for one another.
We went to a Mexican food restaurant and had a grand ole time. Nobody can make me laugh like my friends, except for me. I make myself laugh like crazy, but that’s just because I am the funniest person I know. However, they do what they can. They had me in tears. We talked about events. What new is going on in each other’s lives. Get updates on what is going on in the lives of the people who could not make it. It was great. I left there with a smile in my heart and on my face and with the knowledge that I have some of the best friends on the face of the earth.
After dinner with friends, I went over my mom’s to see mom and nephew, before I change into my uniform and head off to work. I love my nephew, but yall know that, huh? He is such a ball of energy. He is all boy, as the old folks say. He is strange little bugger though. I was sitting in my mom’s room, talking to my aunt on the phone when he come over to me, grabs my hand, licks it and runs off laughing. NASTY LITTLE BASTARD! (Don’t be offended by the term, I honestly use it as a term of affection. Just ask the people who I work with.) Anyhow, he thinks this is the funniest thing in the world, mainly because he likes the grossed out reaction he gets. I’m telling you, this boy has the weirdest since of humor. I keep asking my little sister what the hell they are teaching him.
On a less gross point, he and I were in the dean area and he was jumping about and stuff. I am trying to look at television, Richie Rich, but watching him be hyper all over the place. Then I notice him as he does a tumble. I DIDN’T KNOW HE COULD TUMBLE. I was impressed. I get to thinking that I have not tumbled in a long, long while so I want to show him that uncle can do it too. So, I get down on all fours. Tuck my head under and push myself over with my legs. Up and over I went! My nephew was over joyed. “AGAIN”, he shouts, in pure joy.
Like hell I will, again. When I tell you that every joint and muscle was cussing me out once my body came to rest, you had better believe it. I never knew how much muscle control and shyt you had to use to do a simple tumble.
“Uncle too old to do it again, Manny. I’m sorry.” LOL. And people want me to have a kid of my own. Just spending time with this boy is going to land my happy ass in the hospital.
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.