Birthday Blues

I dunno. This birthday cake is a little too Godfather-looking for my tastes.

I dunno. This birthday cake is a little too Godfather-looking for my tastes. What do you think?

My wife’s birthday is coming up shortly. This is kind of a bummer, because she’s holding down the farm in Pennsylvania while I’m out here in San Francisco earning a buck and walking the mean streets and stuff. I’m coming home in a couple of weeks and we’ll celebrate then, but who wants to be separated from their wife on her birthday? She should have an immediate party plus cocktails.

I’m not going to delve too deeply into this: it will only make me homesick and sniffly. My wife’s a great lady and I’m lucky to have her. She certainly deserves better than the dorky present that I’ll no doubt pick up from some random San Francisco merchant* at the last moment.

I’m a creature of habit. For ten years I’ve been buying my wife’s Christmas and birthday presents at the same six Maryland stores – Smythe Jewelers, Coldwater Creek of Hunt Valley, Barnes and Noble, that one store that’s none of your business, and so forth – and on the whole I’ve gotten good results. My gifts may be hugely predictable, but they’re mostly on-target. Out here, on the other hand, I’m lost. Where the hell do I shop?

I suppose I could bring her a big bowl of ramen from Katana-Ya, or maybe some crab with cellophane noodles from the Slanted Door. Or a hunk of duck from Kam Po Kitchen?  But the TSA bastards would probably confiscate it and eat it. Then they’d do a full cavity search on me because they heard that I just called ‘em “bastards” in the last sentence. Screw you, pals. Get your own damned noodles.

Sadly, it appears that I’ve spent all of my time in San Francisco stuffing my face with Asian food, my shopping excursions limited to supermarkets and that huge-ass downtown Target, neither of which is likely to produce an adequate birthday present for my sweetie. I could go online to Amazon, but that’s dangerous. Along with the present for my wife I usually end up also buying three e-books and a zombie movie on dvd for myself. Then I have some ‘splainin’ to do.

Blowing out the candles may be missing the point here.

Blowing out the candles may be missing the point here.

I could buy my wife some weed, but she doesn’t smoke the stuff. And neither should you. DON’T DO DRUGS, KIDS! Unless you have a legitimate medical condition like cataracts or ennui.

They don’t actually make Rice-a-Roni here, so that’s out too. Damn.

Hmm. Hold on a second. You know, my wife is an avid horsewoman, and she really likes equine-related presents. I wonder if there’s a place in San Francisco where I could get a nice riding crop. Guess I’lI Google it.



Pardon me while I take a long cold shower and erase my browsing history.

Noodles it is. Happy birthday, Honey. I love you and will see you soon!


*If not at the airport. Poor woman. Poor, poor woman.


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