Plead the 4th

There's New Year's, which has turned into a night of drinking and partying to start off the year. There's Halloween, which has turned into a night of sweet-tooth indulging. There's Thanksgiving, which has turned into a fiesta for the fat. There's Christmas, which has turned into a yearly fix for America's spending addiction. However, of all the self-serving holidays a country can have, I think the 4th of July is the worst, not only in terms of how we've twisted the day (we tend to do that) but, more perversely, what birthdays are in general. And I'm not saying this because I didn't get invited to any parties today.

Now, most of you who know me well understand that I have a general distaste for birthdays. I don't mean that I like bashing on birthday bashes or being a killjoy or anything like that. If anything, I love celebrating friends' birthdays as an appreciation of having them as a friend. I do not subscribe to the idea, however, that birthdays are someone's "special day" so that they can get whatever they want, that they are somehow "entitled" to special privileges not normally given to them on any other day.

No, birthdays are a day to celebrate your presence on Earth, not your command of it. It's self-serving even to assume that somehow your birthday is any better than any other day, because everyday is someone's birthday. I don't mind giving you a gift, but I hate people who say shit like, "But it's my birthday," or "C'mon, not even on my birthday?" because it just shows their immaturity and their obsession with themselves.

A wise comedian once said, "There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11."

And thus, that leads me to the the 4th of July, which is the birthday of our obviously fine, fine country.

Don't get me wrong, I love birthdays as fine reminders of our lives and the beauty if life in general, and I definitely love our country, the wealthiest and arguably most driven in the world (both in terms of motivation and number of cars per capita). But I think all this celebrating, these parties, fireworks, sales, advertising and all this crap is just so excessive. We don't need to waste literally millions and millions of dollars on a day about ourselves. That's just self-serving and interestingly, very stereotypically American.

And I don't think a country this great should be about that. I don't have any alternative ideas for celebrating, but using our birthday as a ticket to the shitshow, as an excuse to get drunk and vomit all over our birthday selves is just pure narcissism and vainglory.

In addition, I hate fireworks. They are literally exploding goddamn lights in the goddamn sky. I have glow-in-the-dark stickers on my ceiling, and they light up at night. Is there anything fucking special about that?

AND THEY'RE THE SAME THING EVERY GODDAMN YEAR! It's just lights of different colors and shapes in the sky! WTF?! Is it so novel, so amazing that you have to clog up highways and crowd random areas to watch it? We spend more time looking and finding places to sit than actually seeing the damn show itself.

It's just frustrating to see so much fuss made over something so trivial on a day where we are supposed to be celebrating our country's birth. Instead we strategically place lines in our speeches thanking "for our freedoms" and "for the men and women fighting overseas." Do you know what the American troops are doing today? They're freaking marching in Afghanistan in the fucking desert while we get drunk and throw our pool parties.

The 4th of July is easily the worst of the holidays, in my opinion. Not that the other ones are much better in their perversity. "There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11." We should have stopped with the celebrating in 17goddamn87.

Santa Clara County Libary - Milpitas

Spring break is officially upon me. Today, the 9th of March, marks the Monday that is Spring Break. Already, my weekend has graced me with heart-pulsing stories, gulps of gleeful laughter and adventurous tales of danger and daring.

However, one of the more exciting of these tales comes not during the days off, but rather, during the last day of school. Last Thursday, a few friends decided to get dinner for Sean's birthday. Those in attendance included Charles, Wooster, Jag, Michael, Thinh, Sean and myself.

Since it was his birthday, Sean chose to go to BJ's Brewery. On a Thursday night, restaurants are not usually crowded, and tonight was no exception. Thus, the service would supposedly be faster by compare.

Tonight was, in fact, an exception.

There were various complaints with the waitress, from her being too slow to her forgetting the surprise birthday Pizookie. My own personal complaint was that her voice was overly obnoxious and that she used it too much. If it were one or the other, I wouldn't have minded.

So, after a dinner replete with horrible service, Eric, Michael and I left early to get Eric to pep band practice. It was a good dinner, actually, as is any dinner with such company. Hilarity always inevitably accompanies meals with those particular friends. Yet, had the service been a bit better, I am sure we would have enjoyed ourselves more immensely, or immenselier.

Back at school, as Michael and I were talking, the rest of the group returns. Jag, Charles, Thinh and Sean return laughing and smiling. This is what happened:

After we left, the Pizookie arrived. Sean claims it was cold and she had just taken it out of a to-go box and put it on the platter. Obviously this was the last straw. Sean then proceeded to complain to the waitress (whose name was Cindy as I recall). She was evidently ashamed and let Sean talk to the manager.

The manager then offered to give everyone free Pizookies. However, Sean observed that almost half the party had left already and the Pizookie was beside the point. So, the manager offered him to pay for the meal.

A free meal.

We tried to take Sean out for his birthday, paying for him and everything, and he ended up nabbing US a free meal.

Something about this is backwards.

Stupendous

The week after my birthday, I received a call from my good friend, Winnie.

"Hey! Did you get your card?" she asked me excitedly.
"Uh, I don't think so..." I replied, concerned.
"Oh, did you check your mail yet?"
I thought.
"No, but it's been awhile. Wait, did you send it to my room?" I asked.
"What?" She exclaimed. "You never told me your room number when I asked for your address!"
So I told her my room number.
"It's not going to help me now!" she yelled in a way I hoped was jokingly.

About a week later, she rang again.

"Did you get your card?" she asked me, a little bit less excitedly.
"Uh, I don't thi-"
"Check you mail."
So I did.

I got two cards, one for my birthday and one for Christmas.

The Christmas card, while sweet, was not quite as hilarious as my birthday card.

A pig with a turban is sitting on a ledge, arms spread in wisdom. Two piglets with backpacks stare at him, hanging off the edge, but waiting comfortably. They have climbed the mountain to listen to the wise sage. On the back of the wise pig is a hole. Large coins are littered around him.

"Remember," the wise pig says to the young adventurers. "Change comes from within."

I open the card up, and inside, it reads,

Happy birthday to someone who has always made a lot of "cents."

And thus in this blog do I impart my cents upon you, my readers.

Adieu.

Observational Ramblings

Skype seems to be a genuine method of communication. I would use to think that it was time consuming and cumbersome, seeing as how the phone was simply there and easily accessible to my texting/calling whims.

But it seems with the right people, the right combination of personality and friends, I have been able to accept this once-frowned upon method of communication.

So yes, I am wasting lots of time.

In other news, my good friend Jagmeet Chuahan turns 20 today. He started off the day rough (ask him for details) which lead him to swear never to consume alcohol again.

Yeah, it was THAT rough. But, at the end of the day, we spent a dinner with him and although the bastard busboy at El Torito f@#$ing forgot to get him the free desert and sing to him the jovial Mexican cumpleaños tunes, I do hope Jag enjoyed his time with his good friends. I know he reads my blog, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG GUY! May Allah extend his blessings upon you. =)
^Wow, that blessing almost sounded legit...

I was talking to Sean today before we entered El Torito, and he brought up a good point. No matter where you want to eat, in the end, whomever owns the birthday gets to decide. You simply cannot force your desires on someone else's day. If Jag had chosen to eat at In-N-Out, we are spending time there and eating our asses off, Sean said.

I was SO ready to eat 2 4x4 burgers. That's one more goal of mine.


More surveys coming soon! =)