Three days from now? The celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ.
One day from now (aka “tomorrow”)? The celebration of the birth of Zeitgeist the Clown.
Mom was a good Catholic girl. No sex before marriage, and all that. Well, almost.
I’ve been told that I wasn’t born prematurely. I’ve been told that I wasn’t born late. Which means I was born pretty much when they were expecting. My birth took place just a little over eight months after my parents’ wedding. And if I wasn’t born prematurely, then I was conceived before rings and ‘I do’s were exchanged. Hmm.
The most interesting piece of information uncovered while ‘doing the math’ regarding my conception? I was born nine months – nine months to the day – after Dad’s birthday. I think I know what Mom got him that year.
Okay, two days before Christmas is an absolutely stupid time to have a birthday. Sure, it could be worse. I could have been born ON Christmas. Or on Christmas Eve. (I’ve actually got an aunt who was born on Christmas day. She says she doesn’t recommend it.)
Two days before Christmas (just one day before Christmas eve), everyone is far too busy to really pay close attention to my birthday. There are still Christmas presents to wrap, last minute shopping to do, baking to finish up, and so on and so forth all the way down the incomplete holiday checklist.
This sucked beyond description when I was a kid. I’ve never had a real birthday party. And the number of gift-wrapped objects I’ve received accompanied by the proclamation, “It’s a birthday AND a Christmas present!” is just staggering. Is it the size of two gifts? No. The complexity? The value? No. Does it make me feel like my birthday was an afterthought? Yes.
(And don’t even get me started on birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper.)
I know, I know. Ever since I started this blog, I’ve done nothing but bitch and moan about the fact that I’m a 37 year old virgin. I’m a 37 year old virgin, and I desperately want that fact to no longer be true. Well, tomorrow that changes. But it changes the wrong fucking way!
I wanted to lose my virginity. Not my thirtysevenness. (Huh. Spellchecker didn’t complain about ‘thirtysevenness’. I hadn’t known that was actually a word.) The point of all my bitching was that I wanted to be 37 and sexually active.
Now I’m going to be a 38 year old virgin, and I’ll have to start my bitching all over again. Sigh. A guy just can’t catch a break.
WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE HAVE SEX WITH ME SO I CAN GET THIS OVER WITH ALREADY?
Yikes.
A long, long time ago, I discovered that soap opera mainstay Susan Lucci (Erica Kane on “All My Children”) was born on December 23rd.
Since then, I’ve discovered this thing called the in-ter-net, and it has informed me of other people who share my birthday. Harry Shearer, for one. Actor, comedian, writer, musician, radio personality, and best known – at least among the people in the circles I travel in – as one of the voice artists contribuing heavily to the supporting cast of the Simpsons. Harry Shearer provides the voices of Ned Flanders, Principal Skinner, Mr. Burns, Smithers, Lenny, Reverend Lovejoy, Otto, Kent Brockman, and many others.
Les Moonves (president of CBS, and one of the architects of the merger of the CBS-owned UPN and Warner Bros’ The WB into the CW Network) is also a December 23rd birthday boy. As is Eddie Vedder, giving my birthday some much needed alternative/grunge cred.
[Okay, my spellchecker has no problem with ‘Moonves’, either. Or ‘in-ter-net’. As a test, I decided to type in ‘glorpavetch’. And it seems to be fine with that, too. Now I know that glorpavetch isn’t a real word. I think that my spellchecker may be on the fritz. So please forgive any glaring typos in this post.]
And, since Akihito, the current emperor of Japan also came into the world on December 23rd, my birthday is celebrated as a national Japanese holiday.
On a less famous, but more personal note, Penny (of Sue, Rabbit, Penny, Dot, and CJ fame) was born the same day I was. Dad had an old fishing buddy who was born two days before Christmas like rest of the people on this list. And I know yet another guy who shares my birthday (a friend of a friend – an annoying little weasel whom I personally can’t stand to be around).
Theoretically (and ignoring the fact that people fuck more at certain times of the year and less at others), as many as 1/365th of the population could share my birthday. That’s a lot of cake. And I probably won’t get a single slice.
As stated earlier, two days before Christmas, everybody is far too busy getting ready for Christmas to stop and be bothered with my birthday. I have, therefore, spent most of my adult life trying to get my birthday relocated.
Not the actual birthday so much as the observance of it. I don’t have the necessary technology (at minimum I’d need a time machine) to change the date that I turned a year older on each year. But I figure if Washington and Lincoln can move the observance of their birthdays to a an always-on-Monday ‘President’s Day’, and the government can similarly shift around the observance of certain holidays, then I should be able to observe my December 23rd birthday in early August. Right? Right.
I finally got some agreement on this from people last year, and celebrated my first August observance of my birthday. Both of my siblings agreed it was a good idea, Dad agreed to play along, Zorch had no problem with it. Everything seemed on track.
Come the actual day, my sister and her fiancé (then boyfriend) took me out to dinner and a movie. Then gave me a present. No one else showed up. No one else participated.
When December 23rd rolled around, Dad got me a present. Some of the other people (who had completely ignored my early August attempt at a birthday ‘observance’) now ignored my actual birthday as well, saying, “Well, I thought you’d moved your birthday to August?”
(Johnny Dirtnap didn’t get me a birthday present in either August or December. No Christmas present, either. Not even his old standby ‘combo gift’. But, come to think of it, he hasn’t actually gotten me anything for my birthday or Christmas since he died back in ’95. I wonder if it’s something I said?)
Similar crap happened this year when I tried it again. It will be interesting to see if anyone bothers to try celebrating my real birthday at all.
In attempting to move my birthday, I seem to have ended up splitting it into two less-than-half-apiece birthdays. Weird. (I just wish I got a cake on both dates.)
Having a birthday this month means that I’ll get to make a birthday wish at Darklady’s New Year’s Eve party (assuming that I’m able to find a ride – none of my usual transportation providers are able to accommodate me, and thus far, I’ve been unable to find a carpool or ride-share heading in that direction.)
On the one hand, you’re supposed to go to Darklady’s parties to enjoy yourself, and not with the expectation of hooking up with someone for dirty sexy fun. On the other hand, I have obsessive compulsive disorder, and my brain won’t let go of the notion that if I make the right wish I’ll have the night of my life.
I’ll have fun either way. At the very least I’ll get to watch exhibitionist type people having sex. A live action version of porn. But man-oh-man . . . I want to BE one of those people that night.
I don’t think that I know what my exact wish is yet – mainly because I want too much. I want to lose my virginity. But I have my doubts about anyone stepping up to fulfill that wish, even if I made it.
What do I want? I want to fuck my first pussy. I want to finger a woman (or women) – fore and aft. I want my cock sucked (ideally by a woman’s mouth, but I’m not picky). I want my ass fucked (real cock or strap-on). I want to pinch a woman’s nipples until she can’t take it any more. I want to write naughty things on naked girls with a magic marker. I want to suck on some bare female toes again. I want a woman to give me a reverse birthday spanking (that’s the one where she bares HER ass for the birthday boy to spank however many times he is years old). I want to be the the center of my own little vortex of debauchery.
I’ve sent Darklady an email asking for advice on picking my birthday wish, and (as I sit here writing this post on the 19th) I’m waiting to hear back. The closest that I’ve been able to come to a workable ‘wish’ is “I want to gain some sexual experience”, which would really cover any and everything that a potential partner would be interested in granting me, wishwise.
Tomorrow I’ll be 38 years old, meaning that I will have lived for 38 whole years. Which also means that I’ll now begin living year 39. Having a birthday eight days before the end of the year sort of renders the whole ‘New Year’s’ thing meaningless. Why bother celebrating the purchase of a new calendar when your whole life just advanced into a new year?
I’ve always had a problem with the concept of the ‘New Year’s Resolution’, and I think it was because deep down, I thought it was a concept that belonged linked to the anniversary of one’s birth rather than January 1st. It took me quite a while to actually realize that, though.
Back in November, in a post entitled “The Top Ten List”, I talked a little bit about Uberlists. Specifically about how after having put together my usual Uberlist for the year, I went ahead and put together a second Uberlist for my Zeitgeist the Clown persona, consisting almost entirely of goals having to do with sex.
Upon it’s creation just prior to New Year’s 1995, the original Uberlist was “95 Things to Do in 1995”. It was 99 things to do in 1999, 100 in 2000, 101 in 2001 and so on. This upcoming Uberlist will be “109 Things to Do in 2009”.
Well, last year I discovered that 108 sex-type things is a ridiculous goal for a chronically ill, almost completely shut-in virgin. I pared it down to a Top Ten List (only one of which I’ve managed to check off so far), and left it at that.
But now I’ve started thinking about it again. I’m probably going to do my regular boring non-sex based Uberlist that I’ve done for the past few years. But I want to put together a second Uberlist for Zeitgeist again. Only this time, I think that I might have found a way to make it somewhat more managable. The trick? Ignore the calendar year. Focus instead on my age. “39 Things to Do in Year 39:”
#1? Lose Virginity. I’ll get back to you about the other 38 items in a later post.
Okay. The other interesting piece of information about tomorrow is that it’s the last day that the library (the source of my internet access) is open until January 5th.
Like I said, it’s the 19th as I’m actually writing this. The hope is to get several more posts written for auto-posting between now and the 23rd, so that the blog continues to bring you new material throughout the rest of the winter holiday. Whether or not that actually happens is anybody’s guess.
But the plan is that I’ll continue to blather on and on via autoposting throughout, and actually be back with you . . . well, not ‘live’, but at least more close-to-presstime on January 5th.
So despite the fact that the posts hopefully aren’t going away, I’m taking this moment (Dec 22nd, not the 19th) to say, “Goodbye, and I’ll see you next year! Happy Holidays! And a Happy Birthday to Me!”
One day from now (aka “tomorrow”)? The celebration of the birth of Zeitgeist the Clown.
Why December 23rd?
Mom was a good Catholic girl. No sex before marriage, and all that. Well, almost.
I’ve been told that I wasn’t born prematurely. I’ve been told that I wasn’t born late. Which means I was born pretty much when they were expecting. My birth took place just a little over eight months after my parents’ wedding. And if I wasn’t born prematurely, then I was conceived before rings and ‘I do’s were exchanged. Hmm.
The most interesting piece of information uncovered while ‘doing the math’ regarding my conception? I was born nine months – nine months to the day – after Dad’s birthday. I think I know what Mom got him that year.
Yeah, But Two Days Before Christmas?
Okay, two days before Christmas is an absolutely stupid time to have a birthday. Sure, it could be worse. I could have been born ON Christmas. Or on Christmas Eve. (I’ve actually got an aunt who was born on Christmas day. She says she doesn’t recommend it.)
Two days before Christmas (just one day before Christmas eve), everyone is far too busy to really pay close attention to my birthday. There are still Christmas presents to wrap, last minute shopping to do, baking to finish up, and so on and so forth all the way down the incomplete holiday checklist.
This sucked beyond description when I was a kid. I’ve never had a real birthday party. And the number of gift-wrapped objects I’ve received accompanied by the proclamation, “It’s a birthday AND a Christmas present!” is just staggering. Is it the size of two gifts? No. The complexity? The value? No. Does it make me feel like my birthday was an afterthought? Yes.
(And don’t even get me started on birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper.)
Status Changes
I know, I know. Ever since I started this blog, I’ve done nothing but bitch and moan about the fact that I’m a 37 year old virgin. I’m a 37 year old virgin, and I desperately want that fact to no longer be true. Well, tomorrow that changes. But it changes the wrong fucking way!
I wanted to lose my virginity. Not my thirtysevenness. (Huh. Spellchecker didn’t complain about ‘thirtysevenness’. I hadn’t known that was actually a word.) The point of all my bitching was that I wanted to be 37 and sexually active.
Now I’m going to be a 38 year old virgin, and I’ll have to start my bitching all over again. Sigh. A guy just can’t catch a break.
WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE HAVE SEX WITH ME SO I CAN GET THIS OVER WITH ALREADY?
Yikes.
In Good Company (More or Less)
A long, long time ago, I discovered that soap opera mainstay Susan Lucci (Erica Kane on “All My Children”) was born on December 23rd.
Since then, I’ve discovered this thing called the in-ter-net, and it has informed me of other people who share my birthday. Harry Shearer, for one. Actor, comedian, writer, musician, radio personality, and best known – at least among the people in the circles I travel in – as one of the voice artists contribuing heavily to the supporting cast of the Simpsons. Harry Shearer provides the voices of Ned Flanders, Principal Skinner, Mr. Burns, Smithers, Lenny, Reverend Lovejoy, Otto, Kent Brockman, and many others.
Les Moonves (president of CBS, and one of the architects of the merger of the CBS-owned UPN and Warner Bros’ The WB into the CW Network) is also a December 23rd birthday boy. As is Eddie Vedder, giving my birthday some much needed alternative/grunge cred.
[Okay, my spellchecker has no problem with ‘Moonves’, either. Or ‘in-ter-net’. As a test, I decided to type in ‘glorpavetch’. And it seems to be fine with that, too. Now I know that glorpavetch isn’t a real word. I think that my spellchecker may be on the fritz. So please forgive any glaring typos in this post.]
And, since Akihito, the current emperor of Japan also came into the world on December 23rd, my birthday is celebrated as a national Japanese holiday.
On a less famous, but more personal note, Penny (of Sue, Rabbit, Penny, Dot, and CJ fame) was born the same day I was. Dad had an old fishing buddy who was born two days before Christmas like rest of the people on this list. And I know yet another guy who shares my birthday (a friend of a friend – an annoying little weasel whom I personally can’t stand to be around).
Theoretically (and ignoring the fact that people fuck more at certain times of the year and less at others), as many as 1/365th of the population could share my birthday. That’s a lot of cake. And I probably won’t get a single slice.
Attempts at Relocation
As stated earlier, two days before Christmas, everybody is far too busy getting ready for Christmas to stop and be bothered with my birthday. I have, therefore, spent most of my adult life trying to get my birthday relocated.
Not the actual birthday so much as the observance of it. I don’t have the necessary technology (at minimum I’d need a time machine) to change the date that I turned a year older on each year. But I figure if Washington and Lincoln can move the observance of their birthdays to a an always-on-Monday ‘President’s Day’, and the government can similarly shift around the observance of certain holidays, then I should be able to observe my December 23rd birthday in early August. Right? Right.
I finally got some agreement on this from people last year, and celebrated my first August observance of my birthday. Both of my siblings agreed it was a good idea, Dad agreed to play along, Zorch had no problem with it. Everything seemed on track.
Come the actual day, my sister and her fiancé (then boyfriend) took me out to dinner and a movie. Then gave me a present. No one else showed up. No one else participated.
When December 23rd rolled around, Dad got me a present. Some of the other people (who had completely ignored my early August attempt at a birthday ‘observance’) now ignored my actual birthday as well, saying, “Well, I thought you’d moved your birthday to August?”
(Johnny Dirtnap didn’t get me a birthday present in either August or December. No Christmas present, either. Not even his old standby ‘combo gift’. But, come to think of it, he hasn’t actually gotten me anything for my birthday or Christmas since he died back in ’95. I wonder if it’s something I said?)
Similar crap happened this year when I tried it again. It will be interesting to see if anyone bothers to try celebrating my real birthday at all.
In attempting to move my birthday, I seem to have ended up splitting it into two less-than-half-apiece birthdays. Weird. (I just wish I got a cake on both dates.)
Birthday Wish(es)
Having a birthday this month means that I’ll get to make a birthday wish at Darklady’s New Year’s Eve party (assuming that I’m able to find a ride – none of my usual transportation providers are able to accommodate me, and thus far, I’ve been unable to find a carpool or ride-share heading in that direction.)
On the one hand, you’re supposed to go to Darklady’s parties to enjoy yourself, and not with the expectation of hooking up with someone for dirty sexy fun. On the other hand, I have obsessive compulsive disorder, and my brain won’t let go of the notion that if I make the right wish I’ll have the night of my life.
I’ll have fun either way. At the very least I’ll get to watch exhibitionist type people having sex. A live action version of porn. But man-oh-man . . . I want to BE one of those people that night.
I don’t think that I know what my exact wish is yet – mainly because I want too much. I want to lose my virginity. But I have my doubts about anyone stepping up to fulfill that wish, even if I made it.
What do I want? I want to fuck my first pussy. I want to finger a woman (or women) – fore and aft. I want my cock sucked (ideally by a woman’s mouth, but I’m not picky). I want my ass fucked (real cock or strap-on). I want to pinch a woman’s nipples until she can’t take it any more. I want to write naughty things on naked girls with a magic marker. I want to suck on some bare female toes again. I want a woman to give me a reverse birthday spanking (that’s the one where she bares HER ass for the birthday boy to spank however many times he is years old). I want to be the the center of my own little vortex of debauchery.
I’ve sent Darklady an email asking for advice on picking my birthday wish, and (as I sit here writing this post on the 19th) I’m waiting to hear back. The closest that I’ve been able to come to a workable ‘wish’ is “I want to gain some sexual experience”, which would really cover any and everything that a potential partner would be interested in granting me, wishwise.
Year 39
Tomorrow I’ll be 38 years old, meaning that I will have lived for 38 whole years. Which also means that I’ll now begin living year 39. Having a birthday eight days before the end of the year sort of renders the whole ‘New Year’s’ thing meaningless. Why bother celebrating the purchase of a new calendar when your whole life just advanced into a new year?
I’ve always had a problem with the concept of the ‘New Year’s Resolution’, and I think it was because deep down, I thought it was a concept that belonged linked to the anniversary of one’s birth rather than January 1st. It took me quite a while to actually realize that, though.
Back in November, in a post entitled “The Top Ten List”, I talked a little bit about Uberlists. Specifically about how after having put together my usual Uberlist for the year, I went ahead and put together a second Uberlist for my Zeitgeist the Clown persona, consisting almost entirely of goals having to do with sex.
Upon it’s creation just prior to New Year’s 1995, the original Uberlist was “95 Things to Do in 1995”. It was 99 things to do in 1999, 100 in 2000, 101 in 2001 and so on. This upcoming Uberlist will be “109 Things to Do in 2009”.
Well, last year I discovered that 108 sex-type things is a ridiculous goal for a chronically ill, almost completely shut-in virgin. I pared it down to a Top Ten List (only one of which I’ve managed to check off so far), and left it at that.
But now I’ve started thinking about it again. I’m probably going to do my regular boring non-sex based Uberlist that I’ve done for the past few years. But I want to put together a second Uberlist for Zeitgeist again. Only this time, I think that I might have found a way to make it somewhat more managable. The trick? Ignore the calendar year. Focus instead on my age. “39 Things to Do in Year 39:”
#1? Lose Virginity. I’ll get back to you about the other 38 items in a later post.
Incommunicado
Okay. The other interesting piece of information about tomorrow is that it’s the last day that the library (the source of my internet access) is open until January 5th.
Like I said, it’s the 19th as I’m actually writing this. The hope is to get several more posts written for auto-posting between now and the 23rd, so that the blog continues to bring you new material throughout the rest of the winter holiday. Whether or not that actually happens is anybody’s guess.
But the plan is that I’ll continue to blather on and on via autoposting throughout, and actually be back with you . . . well, not ‘live’, but at least more close-to-presstime on January 5th.
So despite the fact that the posts hopefully aren’t going away, I’m taking this moment (Dec 22nd, not the 19th) to say, “Goodbye, and I’ll see you next year! Happy Holidays! And a Happy Birthday to Me!”
2 comments:
Dear Mr Zeitgeist the Clown
I wish you a very happy birthday and merry Christmas and nice holidays!
I was always here reading you since post number one and I had never quit.
I would love to send you a birthday present but you never answer me back and I really don't now where to send it.
Ok .... if you ever feel like answering me back and you need my email address it's: camelia.prometida@gmail.com
Hope you'll enjoy as much as you can and that you'll find someone to loose your virginity with. If I were nearby I could maybe do you the favor... But I'm too fucking far away :-(
Big kisses and hugs,
camelia
Hey, there, Camelia
I usually reply to your comments, it's just that it always takes me a little time, because I have to use the library for my internet access instead of having round-the-clock net access at home.
I'm currently planning on sending you an email the next time I get to the internet to post something on the blog. I'll include a mailing address so that you can send me a birthday present if you so desire. I'm hoping that you just climb naked into a box and send yourself. That would be the best birthday present ever.
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