So I was staggering in from work and class around 7:45 p.m., and I had already dodged Sally on the phone once that day. She was actually walking up the damn street in a raincoat, hood drawn low over her face like Lord of the Rings.
“Come on, you have to go with me,” she muttered, “I want to go right now.” All I could say is I don’t wanna go, which is lousy, because she was really into me going with her to eat.
So I make my way inside, her following, and collapse on the bed. “Come on, for real, you have to go—we don’t have to stay long, but you have to go with me. Don’t make me tell you why.”
At this last sentence, she looked away, and her big black eyes looked like they were full up and about to spill over. What the hell? I thought, did someone die? Is everything okay?
And then, dammit, I have to go.
So we loaded up the Grand Prize and headed to the Cherokee. She played a Ryan Adams song that I immediately liked—”Anybody Wanna Take Me Home”—and we rolled up in the parking lot.
We headed for the back and I thought, hey, jp!’s here. And Vendela. And . . . .
And everybody. I had my very own surprise party, and I’ve never had one before, and Nog & Jaxxie were there, and Wah & Jah, and Federala, Woodroe, and the Overnight Lows, and Bobby Sunshine, and Herman had just stepped out with the kids (they were getting cranky) but Vendela had stayed behind, and the Ocean Brave was grinning, holding out this cake that was . . . oh, it was me on the cake. A picture Herman had taken with me fake-passed on on the OB’s bed, chocolate smeared all over my face.
Woodroe shouted “get this man a beer!” and someone else said “happy birthday!” and I very nearly teared up. It was just so awesome.
The presents I got were great, too. Lily made me a heart with my name on it—the first Valentine I’ve gotten in years! Herman made me a bunch of “Gorjus, Esq.” cards that read “Justice Served. Wine Poured.” Awesome. Plus him & V gave me that crazy Masonic marble ashtray, uh, thing, that I tried to buy myself a few months ago.
Sally made me the “Blonde Monkey” shirt, and the Lows gave me the wonderful framed picture of Exene, taken at the X show they went to in New Orleans a few months ago.
I can’t even list all the things Jaxxie bought me. She went Dollar Tree crazy, and so I get the Buddha (which I really like), the crazy nightlight (ditto), and tons of other stuff. She also gave me back my copy of Megan’s Choice, a Christian Civil War romance novel Woodroe & Creemo had given me a few years back, that I gifted to her.
It was just a great night. I have the best friends in the world. Thanks to all of you for thinking of me and for planning my great party.
oh good lord. the things i ate at your party, gorjus, must have been rocks painted to look like cheese fries, a greasy sandwich, 5 cokes, and a block of birthday cake. my poor tummy. i was so uncomfortable that i sleptwalked, and fell off the bed.
i’m gonna steal your wwjd q&a rock. and, then i’m gonna name my baby zacheeas.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOU
!!
happy b-day, gorj!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUDE!
If I were in Jackson, I would buy you a shot and then slap your face.
Hope it was all you dreamed it could be.
Happy Birthday to the “Man of the Year” for 2001
.. You rock it!
your schlitz partner..
gorjus: yer b’day surprise is in the mail. to my relief, it is just as bizzaro as your other gifts. in your honor i drank a whole lot last night. okay, not really, but we can just say i did.
Happy B-Day…I’ve been enjoying the toons! Fiery birds…sick.
That ashtray looks more like a bong to me. But then, everything looks like a bong to me.
Happy birthday! Does shot, slaps self
Gorjus’s actual birthday is Saturday, but he said he was going out of town so we planned this for last night…now, it turns out that since his friends love him so much, he’s staying around for Monkey Toasting, part deux on Saturday.
kfb: when Gorjus was drawing that last night, I thought it looked like a bong, too.
happy birthday!
Happy birthday, gorjus! (The eyes on that nightlight are killing me.)
It really does look like a stump bong with a pentagram on it.
ha! a secret masonic stump bong! you can’t see the calipers on the top . . . yah, i like the idea of gettin’ a shot & a slap myself. odd, but endearing.
the masons love slayer.
reign in blood, my friend.
Happy Birthday, shithead! Remember that time when you said Celine Dion was “hot as shit”? I do.
Strangely enough, I bought that little Buddha at the Dollar Star (not Tree?!) for a friend’s birthday as well.
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