Today is my Birthday. I am now 46, and at least for the next month and a half, I am also now 10 years older than Maureen. This morning I celebrated with a tradition that Maureen has brought into our house. I had birthday cake for breakfast. Since I had to work today and the kids are with their mother, we had a little dinner last night. Maureen made two of my favorites, Chicken Limone and Potato Croquettes. Very, very yummy. And then they gave me my present, a European style coffee press. It was the way they served us coffee on our trip to Ireland, so it was something I wanted to try at home. And we will be doing that in the morning. Maureen also put together one of my favorite cakes for dessert. Angle Food Cake. But of course she didn’t just stop at a simple cake. She topped it with a chocolate ganache and stuffed the center with strawberries and lemon whipped cream. This is what I had for breakfast. Two pieces.
Needless to say, as I left for work this morning I was in a pretty good mood. Then I pulled into the gas station to fill up. There was only one spot open, but it was on the driver’s side, and my tank is on the passenger’s side, so I had to swing around the lot to pull in the other way. While doing so, a guy in a Ford Expedition pulled up to the pump. No big deal. My loss for having to pull around. Instead I pull up behind another car that I hope will be done soon, but as I do, I notice the guy in the Expedition gets out and heads into the store without starting to gas up. I find it a little strange that a guy with a big ass SUV and one of those Blue Tooth things in his ear doesn’t use a debit card to fill his tank unless he headed inside to pay cash.
The car in front of me finally moves on, and it is my turn to fill the tank. As I start-up the pump, there is still no sign of the SUV guy. I figure he must be getting one of those tasty Speedway breakfast pizzas to go with his gas. Obviously he doesn’t have a gorgeous wife at home to make him birthday cake for breakfast. I finish at the pump and start to pull away when Mr. Fancy I-Have-A-Really-Big-Car-and-Can-Do-Whatever-I-Want comes out of the store with a pack of cigarettes in his hand and get in his big old monster Ford Expedition. And then he pulls away. He didn’t even get any gas!
As luck would have it, Mr. My-Dick-Is-So-Small-I-Have-To-Drive-A-Big-Truck pulls right up next to me at the light for the entrance of the expressway, and his window is down and I can see him puffing away on his cigarette and talking into the stupid Star Trek thing in his ear. So I roll down the passenger window and shout out to him, “Are you always such a big dick, or were you doing it special just for my birthday?”
He seemed to have no time for such antics from the little people who drive beat-up Chevy Malibus, and after a quick glance he just stared ahead, still talking to himself and his fancy little ear device. So then I got another idea, and I whipped out my crappy cell phone to take a picture as I screamed at him again. But alas, my crappy little phone did not get any better since the U2 concert, and as the light changed, this was the best I could do.
But I did get the last laugh as I sped past him on the Stevenson, honking and waving as I passed. No punk SUV is going to get the best of my crappy car. Or my crappy cell phone.
And did I mention I have a hot young wife who is ten years younger than me?