December 19, 2003
COOL IS RELATIVE
Tonight was Emily's Sweet Sixteen birthday, and she opted for a party at the house with her close friends (the girls are sleeping over. The boys are going snipe hunting with Velociman before he puts their worn, tired carcasses in the back of the Blazer for a trip home).
It swells my heart with joy that she chose this option. I would have run like Pheidippides to escape a 16th birthday party at my house growing up. I believe I spent my 16th birthday admiring my new driver's license with a Miller pony and a bong hit, but I could be mistaken. There were so many 16th birthday parties I spent that way.
At any rate, the slew of youngsters is in the den, singing and dancing to
If you like pina coladas
And gettin' lost in the rain...
And now Michael Jackson.
See, my point is, despite the fact they think they're the phattest of the phat, they're gay as hell. And deep down, they respect my innate hipness. It can only be thus. Otherwise I am mad.
One sad, interesting, poignant postscript to this wonderful night for my beautiful girl: the pina colada was invented in 1957, the year of my birth, at the Caribe Hilton. What is one to make of that piece of knowledge?