Hawaiian Reeves

Fat Tuesday is winding to a close, and unfortunately, Hawaiian has yet to earn his beads.

Which would be sad if I were Catholic, not single, or had any idea what to do with the beads themselves, but that’s simply not the case.  My parents are baptists, I haven’t uttered the word “boyfriend” in a self-referential way since last century, and my mother would tell you that beads are for whores and children, which is why my uncle’s wife fights with her kids over who gets to keep them.

Normally, I’m a fan of excess in moderation, but this is one holiday I just don’t get.  Maybe that’s because I don’t need to drink, stay up late, and turn to strangers for affirmation in order to enjoy myself.  Or maybe it’s I also because I wouldn’t give up enjoying myself for 40 days for some arbitrary reason.  I mean, I’ve given up things I enjoyed for Lent before, but that’s only because the guy I was seeing at the time made that decision for me, so I had to give him up permanently.  Of course, he started making up for Lent the day after Easter, while I, on the other hand, am still waiting for a supersized basket of goodness that has yet to arrive.

These days, my only real form of excess is TV, but even now I’m surfing channels less vigorously than I used to.  I think in part it’s because I’m outgrowing the programming, but perhaps just as telling is the fact that I’m so turned off by what happens in between the programming that it’s difficult to leave my television turned on.  If I’ve stopped calling my mother because I have no idea what to expect on the other end, then maybe it makes sense that I should abandon my TV because I’m truly afraid of the commercials.  I realize most of you have TiVo and don’t face this particular problem, but if you fall into that category, let me give you a little hint of what you’ve been missing.  These three are easily some of the worst commercials I’ve seen in a long, long time… (more…)

Today, Hawaiian is still 29.

But in just over a month I’ll be in a new decade where my hair loss will be expected, the development of jowls will be inevitable, and my complete willingness to watch anything with a commentator will seem par for the course. And while I’m not exactly dreading the number itself in any real way, I also recognize that it definitely marks the end of an era.

I recently had a date with a guy who had skipped two grades as a kid, and was particularly proud of this because it made him part of “a club of people who do things on their own timetable without regard for the norms and pressures of society.” I suppose I could say I’m part of a similar club at this point, the only real difference being that my friends and I are now unlikely to ever again do anything ahead of schedule. Retirement, heart failure, Alzheimer’s, and moving to Florida are the my only remaining options for precocity, and the least likely of those is also the only one that I find at all appealing. Even erectile dysfunction is no longer a surprise at my age, and while I don’t have that particular affliction, my doctor has been very kind to let me know that I should feel free and not ashamed to mention it should the problem ever (not) arise.

In honor of this new era, I considered a Pucker Up and Blow theme for my birthday, with gift bags of party favors to include my favorite lip balm, Sour Patch kids, some Big League Chew, Blow Pops, $100 bills edged with powdered sugar, a kazoo, and a framed copy of my favorite picture of Nicolette Sheridan, but it turns out that I’m too lazy for that. In fact, it’s possible that I still have a few thank you cards to send out from Christmas, so the only giftbags at my birthday party should be ones with my name on them. And since 30 is really the last year it’s even remotely acceptable to expect or accept gifts from people who don’t share your bed, your DNA, or know things about your past that allow the two of you to blackmail each other in perpetuity, I’ve decided to put together a wishlist just in case some of you are feeling generous, have connections that you’ve been hiding from me, or need to be entertained.

So here it is… a birthday wishlist served up Hawaiian-style. And since it’s a big birthday, I might as well list the big-ticket items first.

At the top of the list is definitely the gift that would keep on giving… (more…)