Wednesday, November 30, 2005

The Shaft Part 2: Why being born on Christmas Day sucks!

Our Christmas Tree complete with Digiko Anime hat.

In case you missed it last year, it was a popular story so I thought I'd generate all of those hits again by telling it a bit differently. Here is the link to last year's story. This year I decided to dig a bit deeper into the issue.

I'll be 32 this year, over twice as old as this guy. Yet, I don't feel older except when I have to do things like: Run... Bend over... think.... I just have responsibilities that you get when you are 32, like marriage, a mortgage, a job, Hummer payments, bashing liberals.. Still 32 years ago on this up coming Christmas, my life was ruined and it's all my mother's fault and I never will know the difference.

Last year I acknowledged the folks that insist on calling me a Christmas baby when they see my ID, like the chick at Starbucks this morning or the finance guy at the Hummer dealership. Yeah, I smile and say, yep that's me a Christmas baby...(as I repeat last year's post's intent). No. This year I take the deep seeded rage further: December 23rd, 1973.... 2 days before I was born. See I was originally due in January, like the 7th or something. You know, a normal birthday. Something that goes unnoticed, like, "Oh it's your birthday". Or "Oh shoot, I forgot it was my birthday today." I don't get the lame after Christmas excuse that, "Oh I spent all my money on Christmas presents." Just once I wanna hear that. Back to the 23rd, it was about that time that my mother went into the doctor for a check up or something (if she reads this she'll clarify) and the Doctor mentioned that he'd be going to Hawaii a few days after Christmas and would be back by the first week of January. Ok... I know how this went down. My mom didn't go... "Oh, Okay... no problem, have a safe trip." Oh No!! I know my mom... she did the one thing she does best: Panic!!! She probably gave the doctor some lame excuse how my oldest brother came a month early or that my other brother stayed in too long and was a fat baby who didn't walk until he was 2 or some lame excuse. Oh no... she wanted me out right then and now. And so the doctor did what she wanted, induced labor.

This didn't exactly happen right away. I mean, the whole rest of the 23rd. The 24th. My parents even took my brothers to San Jose to see the grandparents on Christmas Eve. Hours went by. Then on Christmas day.... hours and hours later. I popped out into the world. To me it was any other day. For the hundreds of others who have to check my ID or get my birth date on a credit app, I will forever be noted as "Christmas Baby". I am forever doomed to the scenarios in last year's post.

Thanks Mom.

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