The Birthday Beast

Chronicles of the Birthday Beast

July 15, 2004 Dear Diary,

Yesterday a horrible predator was pursuing me. A creature so vicious that no matter what I did to get away from it, it never relented it its chase. I started out the morning with the beast directly in my face. I was able to dodge it at first but it came after me. It tailed me everywhere I went. I ducked behind a tree and for a moment I thought I had lost it. But when I peeked to see if it was gone, there it was right in front of me again. It stared at me showing it sharp fanged teeth, snarling and drooling. I was petrified, I couldn’t move. The heat and stench of its breath surrounded me as the animal loomed over me. I tried to run again but I was not quick enough. The creature grabbed me by the hair and threw me face down into the dirt. The beast bound my hands behind my back and hauled me off, kicking and screaming to torment me until it was tired of doing so. This entity is so nasty that with just a wink of its eye it could demolish any other subject of fear that crossed its path. Vampires, werewolves, demons, the IRS….nothing could measure up to….My Birthday!!!!

Yep, yesterday was my birthday and I survived. No matter how hard I tried to hide from it, that birthday hunted me down and found me. Just like every year, my birthday was just smarter than I. It out witted me and caught me, again. I am now 33 years old…still single. I don’t question why I am still single. The last guy that I dated for any length of time, approximately 1 year, just told me the other day that when he first met me he thought I was so sweet, nice and understanding. However, now that he has gotten to know me, I have turned out to be a bitter, man-hating bitch. Oddly enough, I am not the least bit offended by that. As a matter of fact I am way less shocked at the fact that he called me that than I am at the fact that it took him a year to figure it out. I have been called worse things that simply were not true about me but ‘bitter, man-hating bitch’…oh, yeah, that’s me. Even I can not argue with that.

Even still, I think I would like to be married someday (to a man, these days you have to specify that). I, like most girls my age, do all I can to be socially presentable and as attractive as possible. I color gray. I highlight lips, cheeks and eyes. I paint my nails and whiten my teeth. My skin gets cleaned, exfoliated, de-toxed, moisturized, clarified, wrinkle reduced and moisturized again. Unwanted hair…ugh…shaved, cut, plucked, pulled, tweezed, waxed, debilitated or electrified.

Of course there is the costly maintenance and upkeep of my body. Whether I like ‘em or not, I choke down at least 5 servings of fruits and vegetables. I also guzzle 6 to 8 eight-ounce servings of water each day. I watch my intake of calories, carbohydrates and fats while making sure I get all my daily allowance of vitamins and minerals. And, of course, I exercise. All in efforts to fight the effect of my own age and the basic laws of gravity. Whoever said the naturally aged, 30-something, female figure was not attractive in its own right, should be shot.

I wish I could say the evidence of my labor show in how I look, but I really don’t see it. However, it does show in the wear and tear of my workout cloths. Just the other day I realized my favorite sport bra, a red cotton and spandex Everlast, needed to be tossed out. I loved that bra. No matter what exercise I did, whether I did push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, aerobics, pilotes, cycling, lifting weights or just walking the dog, that bra did its job - lifted, separated and kept jiggling at a minimum. The other bras did their best but they just couldn’t carry the weight like the old Everlast. But when I went to put it on, I notice considerable damage to the outer shell exposing the inner elastic. Even the exposed elastic was showing signs of fraying. Sadly, I decided it was time to retire the Everlast. (sigh)

So, there it is. Another year of being single – gone. I’m half way to 66, one third of the way to…well, dead probably, but that’s OK. I’m content in the fact that this 33 year-old bitter, man-hating ah, um, sweetie is going strong, holding her own, surviving the Birthday Beast, able to frustrate the testosterone challenged and out lasting things branded "Everlast".

July 14, 2005

Dear Diary,

I can tell by the looks I am getting from my co-workers they are very concerned about my appearance today. Although no one has said anything to me, I can hear them whispering to each other. I just assume it’s about me. I can’t blame them, I do look a fright.

The day started out just like any other. I got out of bed, put the dog outside & fed him. I showered and got ready for work. I stopped before going out the door to look at my calendar. Just at that moment I felt what I thought was hot steam on the back of my neck. I started to smell the stench of an open sewer. I turned around to find myself face to face with….HIM….again.

Yes, the Birthday Beast was back and ready to inflect as much torment and harassment I could take and more. Before I could even scream, the monster grabbed my face with his big scaly hand and lifted me up. My feet were actually dangling and I instinctively started kicking. Luckily, one of the random yet vigorous blows with my foot caused the creature to snarl in pain and drop me long enough for me to get out the door and to my driveway.

The determined animal quickly caught up to me and grabbed a handful of my hair. A swift elbow to the gut by me sent him stumbling and tripping backwards. He caught his balance once he backed into the fence that surrounds my back yard where I keep my dog (Bruno) in while I’m at work.

My loyal 4-legged buddy lunged up from his side of the barrier and caught a hunk of the monster’s wiry mane in his own mouth. With Bruno’s barking and growling and the beast snarling and, in his pain from having his hair being pulled by Bruno, the attacker was now making a loud continuous deep reverberating sound. The noise coming from my yard was horrible.

Bruno’s assault on my predator gave me the time I needed to jump into my truck and drive away. I arrived at my office in just a few minutes. Apparently, Bruno’s hold gave out too quickly and the creature was able to stow away in the bed of my truck to continue his attack in the parking lot at work.

Well, I had had enough. As soon as the creature jumped out of the back of my truck and headed toward me, I surprised him by heading towards him instead of running away. Once he was in reach, one quick jab in the gut and a full force uppercut to the jaw put the menace on the ground. As I stood over him expecting to have to continue to defend myself, he curled up into the fetal position and started sucking his thumb.

Just to be mean, I kicked some dirt in his face and demanded that he get up. The Birthday Beast complied and stood up. Then he calmly brushed some of the dirt of him with his hands. After that he looked at me, stuck his tongue out at me, winked and walked away. And that was it.

Once inside my office I went straight to a mirror to assess the damage made by this year’s Birthday attack. The most noticeable is easily fixed – the smeared make-up, the disheveled hair and the wrinkled clothing. However, the worse damage (and probably the reason the Birthday Beast was so smug as he walked away) is the at least 2 dozen more gray hairs, the couple more face wrinkles and added force to the gravitational pull that is already wearing out the elastic in my under garments.

I swear, this is not going to happen to me again. Next year I will be prepared. No more battles with the Birthday Beast. If I see him again…..I’ll demolish him!

July 14, 2006 Dear Diary, This time of the year for the last few years, I have suffered brutal attacks by the Birthday Beast. After last year’s assault, I swore I would be prepared if it happened again and would demolish the monster that so ruthlessly pursues me. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Since I was expecting the creep’s offensive tactics, I made several defensive maneuvers. First, I have been lifting weights for the last several months. I thought building muscle would put more power in my punches. Also, I cut my hair to shoulder length. I noticed in all the previous attacks, the Birthday Beast stopped my retreats by grabbing my long brunette locks. Finally, I woke up earlier, changed my normal morning routine and altered my route to work. All this was in efforts to hide my presence. I mean, he couldn’t fight me if he couldn’t find me, right? Well, all my efforts were in vein since he did, indeed, find me. Although, this time it was later in the day as oppose to first thing in the morning as has been the case in the past. This time he laid in wait in the back seat of my truck. When I left my office to go to lunch, he made his move. Wrongly suspecting I had avoided intrusion, I was totally caught off guard for what awaited me. I obliviously unlocked my driver’s side door and got comfortable in the driver’s seat. In my normal sequence, I started the engine, buckled my seat belt then simultaneously reached for the gear shifter to put the transmission in reverse and looked into the rear-view mirror for conformation the path was clear to back out of the parking space. However, instead of seeing the parking lot and surrounding hedges, my mirror reflected the image of the snarling, drooling, growling monstrosity I’ve been forced to encounter every year. Before I could scream, the creature covered my mouth with his bristly hand. I can hardly describe the sensation left in my mouth from this make-shift gag. Ugh, it was what I would imagine it would be like to bite into a 3-day dead (not frozen) trout. My shock and disgust hindered my escape. Especially since I struggled with my seat belt. After what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a couple of minutes, I was able to inflect enough pain to my captor with a vicious jaw-locking bite for him to loose his grip. As soon as the brute let go, I unhooked my seatbelt, grabbed the keys out of the ignition, opened my door and literally fell out of my truck onto the pavement, tearing my pants and scraping my knee in the process. I ran back to my office while spitting out the scruffy hair, scales and green ooze the demon has as a substitute for blood that had gotten caught in my teeth during my retaliation.

Once safely inside my office I watched from the window to see what the monster would do next. He crawled from the back seat to the driver’s seat. He seemed to be rummaging through the different compartments. I noticed him peering at himself in the same rear-view mirror where I first saw him. Then to my horror I noticed he was primping, with MY HAIR BRUSH that he found in the glove box! When he was satisfied with his appearance; he simply got out of the truck and walked out of sight. After my ordeal I decided to skip lunch and just took it easy at my desk for the hour. I re-evaluated my failed Birthday Beast defense. I believe I know how the monster found me regardless of my evasive maneuvers. He smelled me. When I thought about it, combine the apple ginger shampoo and conditioner, wild strawberry shower gel, spiced pineapple moisturizing lotion and cucumber melon deodorant I use, I must smell like a delicious fruit salad. The only thing I’m missing is a dollop of whipped cream topped off with a maraschino cherry. No wonder he is drooling every time I run into him. Next year’s defensive strategy – unscented everything. Either that or stop bathing all together. That should keep him away. Of course it will keep everyone else away too. I guess I’ll just have to evaluate my social priorities before I make a final decision. Note to self - throw away hair brush.

July 15, 2007 Dear Diary, Yesterday morning I woke up and hit the ground running. The incidences from the past few years have taught me to be aware of what the day is. I made it my mission since last year to be aware and be prepared for my yearly assault by the Birthday Beast. My game plan was to not be stationary for any notable amount of time with the idea that if I stayed a moving target, I’d be much harder to catch. As soon as I woke up I threw on some cloths. I didn’t even bother to brush out my hair before putting it up into a tight bun nor did I put on a stitch of make-up. I put my four-legged buddy, Bruno, on a leash and we headed out to our regular walking track for a 2 mile hike. It was a very panicky walk for me. The walking track we were on is surrounded by tall trees on all sides making for plenty of camouflage for that sneaky pest that stalks me every year. At one point there was the sound of ground cover being disturbed coming from behind us. Holding Bruno’s leash in one hand I quickly bent down, picked up a nice-sized rock turned around and hurled it in the direction of the noise. The stone narrowly missed a couple of young playful squirrels. In squirrel language, the two rodents yelled a series of obscenities at me and scampered off into the woods. Other than that, the walk was uneventful. Bruno and I came back home just long enough for me to grab a handful of grapes and a glass of soy milk for breakfast. I left the dog in the back yard and I took off again. To the coffee shop for a frozen cappuccino, the video rental store for a DVD, to the grocery store, to Wal-mart and to Home Depot just for fun all the while I stayed alert and continued to glace over my shoulder every few seconds. By this time it was getting late in the afternoon and I was getting suspicious at the fact that I had been able to avoid that miserable foul-smelling creature that had been invading my otherwise serene life on this day every year. Despite my uneasiness about being at home where the creature might find me, I had to shower and get ready for a pre-scheduled dinner date with a friend. I brought Bruno inside with me to stand guard. I felt better once my friend arrived to pick me up since the monster had never shown up around other people. Dinner & and movie out with my friend then back to my house for chit-chat took up several hours and it was close to mid-night before I was alone again. I began to believe I had made it through the day free and clear. Surely if the predator was going to show up he would have done it by now. I relaxed into my pajamas and started to wash my face in my bathroom sink. After being stooped over while rinsing the make-up off my face, I stood up straight and….. there he was, reflected in the mirror, standing directly behind me – the BIRTHDAY BEAST!!! I immediately ducked his would-be bear hug from behind and scurried toward the bathroom exit. The vengeful demon grabbed by left ankle and dragged me back toward him. He lifted me up above his head and dangled me upside down in front of his face. The first thing I noticed was the fact that even though his breath still stunk, it did have a minty scent too as if he had recently brushed his teeth. Then I realized he really wasn’t drooling as bad as he had been in the past, his wiry hair was as groomed as possible and he was wearing a bow tie. I think I recognized the scent of Old Spice cologne on him. Plus, he was smiling at me. Net the evil “ha, ha I got you now” smile but a real, actual genuine friendly smile. With me still hanging upside down, I winced when I realized the beast was puckering his lips and leaning in to kiss me. Holding me up by my ankle in one hand he used his other hand to hold my face still so he could plant a prickly smooch on my cheek. To my shock, he gently put me down onto the floor and walked out of the room. Keeping my distance, I followed the creature. Amazingly, he skipped down the hallway to the kitchen and out my back door. I watched through my living room window as I spied him with his playful steps go down my driveway to the road where another creature, with his same features only slightly smaller in stature and with a pink bow decorating its hair, waited to greet him. I realized the reason he was in such a good mood and had cleaned up some was because he had gotten a girlfriend. Several thoughts crossed my mind at that point. First was, “How cute”. Then it was “Oh, no. There are two of them, what if they breed?” Next it was “Wait a minute, that cranky creep can find a significant other, but I can’t? What’s wrong with this picture?” After the two freaky lovebirds disappeared down the road I returned to the bathroom mirror to access the new birthday damage. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this year that ‘new and improved’ Birthday Beast and taken away 3 wrinkles, 25 gray hairs and although I can not be 100% positive, I really believe my butt has been lifted a little. I am ecstatic to report that he actually removed 1 year instead of adding it. I am just on cloud nine at this revelation. I know it is hard to accept. It is very likely that no one is going to believe me. I don’t care. That’s my story and I am sticking to it!

July 15, 2008

Dear Diary,

*Sigh* I gave up. I have been battling this Birthday Beast creature long enough. I have taken a queue from the great General Lee and am surrendering. Last year I reported the Birthday Beast had loosened up and removed 3 age-related wrinkles and 25 gray hairs as I suspected his lightened mood was due to the fact that he had gotten a girlfriend. I regret to recant that report. The wrinkles and gray hairs were just temporarily masked and time-delayed. All the signs of aging returned within the week along with even more wrinkles and gray hairs and sagging body parts I’ll decline to mention. This July 14th I decided not to even go on the defensive. So, yesterday I went about my day as usual although I did take the afternoon off from work just because I could. I basically meandered through the day totally expecting the monster to appear in my path at any time. I went out to dinner with a friend then afterwards to my parent’s for desert where my mother presented me with a chocolate cake and sang “Happy Un-birthday” to me (she knows me so well). After the impromptu b-day celebration, I headed home to turn in for the night. Bruno and I had settled on the couch to watch a DVD when there was a knock at the door. I answered and to no surprised it was him or should I say it was them. The Birthday Beast with Girlfriend in tow stood outside my abode. I polity invited them in and started some water boiling for tea. I motioned for them to have a seat on the couch after shooing Bruno off. Although I still observed the stench of rotting fish on both creatures, just like last year, his stench was accompanied with Old Spice and I really think Girlfriend had marinated herself in Channel #5. Also, he was wearing a silk blue & gray striped tie which I believe I saw in the Tommy Hilfiger collection at Belk while Girlfriend was sporting a pink Prada handbag. I thought to myself, “Give me a break, who are they trying to impress?” I mean, she probably spent over a thousand dollars for that purse but hasn’t invested a dime into her snaggled, yellowed, vampire-ish teeth. Those are some badly messed up priorities, if you ask me. I sat in a chair across the room from the freakishly scary lovebirds while we all, except Bruno, quietly sipped tea and just blankly stared at each other. Every now and then Girlfriend would shyly smile at me and I would grin back. By the way, did I mention, she really REALLY needs dental work. Then a sparkle from Girlfriend’s left hand caught my eye. The chick was wearing a huge diamond ring! “Is that an engagement ring?” I asked. Girlfriend giggled and stretched out her arm toward me. I stood up, spilling my tea, and took her grizzly paw in my hand to get a better look. The platinum band had 10 small princess-cut diamonds embedded 5 on each side of another, much larger, princess-cut diamond. The center diamond must have been at least 3 carrots. I was filled with extreme jealousy as I said “Very pretty” the best I could do through my gritted teeth. Engaged. . . . .ENGAGED!!!! They are engaged? The Birthday Beast with his stinking body odor, mangled teeth, nasty personality and hair that would make Vidal Sassoon quit his profession to become a Harley Davidson mechanic if he were asked to tame it can find someone to agree to spend the rest of their life with him but I’m still single? There is something seriously wrong here. I then explained to my guest that it was getting late as I escorted them out the door. Once I had cleaned up after my less-than-pleasant company I assessed the birthday damage in the mirror. With a late-night run to the beauty supply department at Wal-mart, I quickly took care of the additional gray hairs and concealed some of the new wrinkles. At least I didn’t have to suffer the pulled hair, cuts and bruises I had to endure in the past due to my self-defense tactics that never worked anyway. This year I was able to take the ageing with a little more southern grace and much less physical exertion. However, this cordial get-together did give me an interesting idea. I believe next year I will again be the pleasant social hostess to the olfactory-offending couple. Only next time I will serve the tea. . . . . . .sweetened with cyanide.

July 14, 2009

Dear Diary,

This morning started out normal enough and stayed that way for all of 20 minutes then the day went down hill fast. I had put the dog outside, changed into my work-out cloths and was just about half way through my simi-regular morning Pilotes DVD routine when there was a knock at my door. I paused the DVD as I thought to myself “Who the heck could that be?” It was not even 6:30 a.m.; no one I knew would be out visiting at that time. Honestly, I had not even thought about what day it was. If I had, I would have known immediately who was disturbing me so early on a weekday morning.

Sure enough, I answered the door and it was HIM. Oh, excuse me, it was THEM. Yep, it was the dreaded Birthday Beast and his Girlfriend. (To correct myself again, the girlfriend is actually a fiancé but calling her ‘Girlfriend’ is easier than calling her ‘Fiancé’.) I politely motioned for them to enter. I stood to the side as Girlfriend sashayed in wearing cream-colored clamdigger pants and a very loud hot pink shirt with a multi-colored hibiscus flower print. She had large bow in her hair made of the same material as the shirt. She had changed her perfume from last year. Last year, she wore Channel #5. This year it was Clinique Happy. The only reason I know this is because that is what I wear. Following Girlfriend was a tall, almost shapeless woman – human woman, dressed in a dark gray business suit. She was very professional looking. She held out her hand to me (more of in a ‘kiss the ring’ position than in a friendly hand shake stance). I reached out my own hand to oblige the greeting. She looked down her long, thin, beak-like nose at me (she was about 3 inches taller) and introduced herself “Lady Victoria Patrice Trent-Williams-Bouquet, Bridal Consultant. You may call me Lady Patrice.” By the way, she rolled the R’s in ‘Patrice’ and ‘bridal’ and she had the weakest handshake I’ve ever participated in. Kind of stunned, I replied “oh, OK”.

Ending the freak parade into my house was the Birthday Beast himself with his big snaggeled-tooth grin and gag-inducing stench which he still tied to cover by slathering on cologne. Girlfriend may have changed her flavor but BB has remained monogamous to Old Spice. I realized his outfit completely matched Girlfriend’s with the exception of instead of a bow, he had a straw hat that had a band that matched the hibiscus flower shirt. Together they looked like Jimmy Buffet back-up singers.

I escorted my guest into the living room and invited them all to have a seat. Suddenly my mind started going in fast motion as I started thinking “Crap! I forgot to get cyanide. What have I got on hand that can take care of this? Weed killer and bug spray. If it didn’t kill them, it should make them sick enough till I can strangle, dismember and bury the pests in the back yard.” What about Lady Patrice? I decided I’d deal with her later. If I couldn’t buy her silence and cooperation, I’d just dig a hole for 3 instead of 2. “Everyone in the mood for tea?” I asked with enthusiasm.

Lady Patrice spoke “No, no. We haven’t the time. We have business to conduct.” At this point Lady Patrice pulled out a paper from her Franklin Covey organizer and handed it in my direction and simply said “sign”. (Gees! She’s so snooty!)

I took the paper but was distracted when I heard Girlfriend giggle. I looked over at the monstrous couple who were seated on my couch just in time to witness BB’s tongue lick Girlfriend’s ear. I repressed the urge to vomit as I realized they were making out. Again I ask the universe how is it possible that this Birthday Beast, this stinking, oozy, creepy abomination can find someone to agree (apparently joyously) to make the ultimate lifetime commitment with him but I can’t.

Nauseously, I diverted my attention back to the paper which started at the top with bold lettering 'Bridesmaid Contract' The next few lines simply were my name, dress size: (withheld in this letter for confidentiality), shoe size: 8 ½. The rest, in summary, stated that by signing the contract I agree not to gain or loose any weight before the late October wedding. I can not cut my hair shorter than shoulder length. Since the dresses are strapless, I cannot have any visible tattoos or tan lines. I also consent to any wedding-day hairstyle, makeup, jewelry and nail color as chosen by the bride. Finally I acquiesce to being present at all related events leading up to and including the wedding and reception. The wedding ceremony is to be held on the grounds of the Currituck Beach Lighthouse with the reception on the north lawn at the nearby Whalehead Club in Corolla, NC. The contract also binds me to climbing to the top of the 158 foot lighthouse for a photo opportunity with the bride and groom. As a side note: IF I were the type of girl to fantasize about her own dream wedding that would be it.

Are you kidding me? This grotesque, repugnant demon spent years harassing me, chasing me and stealing my youth bit by bit. Then he comes in last year flaunting his new mate and her fabulous engagement ring. Now he expects me to be a supporting attendant at his wedding which just happens to be the wedding of MY dreams. Well, screw him! And may I add, out of all the weddings I’ve been a bridesmaid (and there have been many), I have NEVER been asked to sign a contract. How rude!

I looked at Lady Patrice as I mentioned that my shoe size was a 9. “Our bridesmaid can not have big feet” she informed me. Big feet?! I don’t have big feet. Just as I was handing the contract back to the skinny bitch. . .oh, uh, I mean Lady Patrice, Girlfriend made some barking-grunting type noises. Lady Patrice looked at her and made similar noises. I’m sure I had the deer-in-the-headlights look as I realized she spoke their language. Finally Lady Patrice looked at me and spat out “Fine, you may wear a . . .” She swallowed hard, got a disgusted look on her face, rolled her eyes and finished “. . . nine.”

I just gritted my teeth as I put on my best fake smile, signed the contract and handed it back to the Bridal-Consultant-From-Hell. The Birthday Beast approached me, smiling. He patted me on the head and tweaked my nose. With that, my guest left. I didn’t bother assessing the damage. It’s the same every year – more gray hair, more wrinkles, more sag. The Birthday Beast is good at his job – I’ll give him that.

I do have a sense of satisfaction as I recall the details of the Bridesmaid Contract. Especially the part about climbing to the top of the lighthouse. 158 feet up, huh. Well, what they call a ‘photo opportunity’ I see as an opportunity for an ‘accidental’ fall. . . . . . . . and no more Birthday Beast.

July 15, 2010 Dear Diary, (continued from July 14, 2009)

Against my better judgment, I fulfilled my duties as a contracted bridesmaid for the mate of the Birthday Beast. However, due to conflicting schedules the original October 2009 date had to be moved back. Just my luck, they picked July 14, 2010. I had to put that day into realistic perspective. Fact: Once again I was the dreaded perpetual bridesmaid (always the bridesmaid, never the bride). Fact: I had to be the bridesmaid for the disgusting monster that slowly removes my youth year by year (I continue to have a confused astonishment at how THIS creature could find a significant other while I continue to fail at that particular feat). Fact: The wedding I regretted agreeing to be an attendant of for the creature I considered my mortal enemy was an event I would have loved to have for myself (if the opportunity was EVER presented). Fact: This, ah-hem, blessed event was being held on MY birthday. And not just ANY birthday, it was the day that initiated the countdown of the last year of me being in my 30’s. Fact: Life sucks.

Upon arriving at the wedding venue, the Currituck Beach Lighthouse, I was greeted by Lady Victoria Patrice Trent-Williams-Bouquet, Bridal Consultant. She was just as snooty and demanding as I had remembered from our first meeting exactly 1 year prior. I still recall the snobby way she introduced herself by saying “You may call me Lady Patrice.” and the way she rolled the R in ‘Patrice’. She informed me I would be ushered by the Best Beast who was the only attendant other than me in the wedding party. “Don’t you mean ‘best man’?” I asked. “Nooo” she sneered. “Best Beast” she said as she pointed toward the lawn of the Currituck lighthouse. I was shocked at what I saw. There stood Birthday Beast mingling with Best Beast and about 1000 other beast that were ALL eerily similar to Birthday Beast with wiry course hair, snuggled fangs and fungal affected claws. They each had their own identifying features; some had flat noses, some long & pointed; some had squinty eyes, some freakishly large, etc. However, ALL were equally hideous and had that nauseating ‘monster smell’.

I gasped in reaction. “What’s wrong?” asked Lady Patrice (as she rolled the R in ‘wrong’). “Jeez! How many of them are there?” I asked. “One for every human over the age of 30” she replied. Then she raised her eyebrows and said, “Surely, you didn’t think YOU were the only one, did you?” She continued to educate me that indeed every human is ravaged by birthdays. Most folks never see the monsters. Most people just obliviously go on their routines and just one day has a back ache or gray hair but never realizes they had been attacked. It’s people like me, who pay attention and try to fight back who have a hard time. She also stated that all Birthday Beast own stock in vitamin supplement companies, joint replacement manufactures or plastic surgery centers, which explained the sea of new luxury cars in the parking lot.

After the uneventful and somewhat boring wedding ceremony, the bride & groom, the Best Beast, the photographer & I climbed the 214 steps to the top of the picturesque Currituck Lighthouse for our wedding album photo shoot. After a few snaps the photographer decided to take himself back down to the ground to get some photos of the wedding party from a different angle. The rest of us waited for the camera bug to descend the stairs. Suddenly I noticed the Best Beast had diverted his view from the bride & groom. Since the cameraman had not emerged at the bottom yet, I realized this was my opportunity and I took it. I crept up behind the newlywed couple as they gazed out at the horizon and shoved. I was elated as the pair toppled over the railing presumably to their death.

I did my best Academy Award performance of extreme horror and even screamed out “Oh no!” However, inwardly I secretly wanted to dance. I was exhilarated as my brain analyzed what the occurrence of the Birthday Beast falling over 150 feet meant for me. No more retched signs of aging! No more wrinkles, no new grey hair and no additional sagging body parts.

My insides were singing “♪♫Ding dong the Beast is dead ♫ Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed. ♫ Wake up, the Birthday Beast is dead. ♪ He's gone where the goblins go, below - below - below. ♪Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells. ♪ Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low. Let them know ♫Ding dong the Birthday Beast is dead! ♪♫”

My short-lived joy abruptly ended as soon as the creatures hit the ground and the horrible, terrible, heartbreaking truth was evident . . . . Birthday Beasts bounce. . . . .THEY FREAKIN’ BOUNCE!!! Hell! They even started giggling as they held hands and rebounded up the North Carolina coast line until they were out of site.

The wedding reception continued as planned at Lady Patrice’s insistence and the heard of creepy critters merrily went about with their festivities. I, however, feeling defeated and conquered removed myself from the party and sulked to my own beachfront hotel. (I just assume the bride & groom returned to their guest as soon as the momentum of their high-rise fall wore out.)

While sitting on my ocean view balcony with the panorama perspective of the Atlantic, an inspirational survey of a couple hunky lifeguards and high-octane Mt. Dew I molded a new outlook of my situation.

I remembered a quote by Benjamin Franklin, “I didn’t fail the test, I just found 100 ways of doing it wrong.” And where would we be without his success, right? Therefore, I didn’t fail with my attempt to get rid of my Birthday Beast, I just did it wrong. So what if 150 feet plummet to the ground didn’t stop my birthday torturer? SOMETHING will; guns, knives, toxic chemicals, suffocation, strangulation, venomous snakes, drowning, dismemberment, electrocution, poisonous spiders, vehicle ‘accident’. . . . . there ARE other ways.

August 10, 2011 Dear Diary,

Wow! I can’t believe it. It’s been nearly a month since THAT day and I almost forgot to tell you what happened so, here goes:

The day of my birthday was just like any other Thursday; I went to work & came home like normal. Later in the evening my parents presented me with a birthday ice cream cake. After having a slice (or 2) of the dessert & letting my best friend, Bruno, lick the plate I went home & settled in for the night. Friday, July 15th came and went like any other – still no menacing visitor. Saturday I was busy preparing for & then mingling with some friends who had come over for a planned get-together. Afterwards, I went on an overnight camping/scuba diving trip with my new dive-buddy to a rock quarry in Rolesville, NC.

I met Dive-Buddy on Memorial Day weekend at the same quarry. I was there with my diving instructor, his wife and another student getting my open-water diver certification. Dive-Buddy works weekends at the quarry filling air tanks and maintaining the various platforms both above & below the water. Suffice to say, we hit it off and eventually turned camping/scuba diving into a near weekly thing.

So, it’s Saturday evening, the tent is set up, the camp fire is going, Dive-Buddy has gone to talk business with the quarry owner, as far as I can tell there are no other campers and all the other scuba divers have gone for the day. I’m just enjoying the sounds of the crickets, locust & toads while watching the rays of the setting sun reflect off the water. Suddenly, there was THE smell. At first I thought maybe the wind had drifted the sent of a porta-potty my way but in reality the chemicals they use in those things really do a good job keeping the stink under control. With the unmistakable sound of a snapping twig behind me I quickly turned round. A couple days late but there he stood, wife in tow, the Birthday Beast was back.

Annoyed by having my peace interrupted, I growled and narrowed my eyes in a threatening glare. As both monsters stood there looking confused at my rabid expression, I surveyed my surroundings in search of a weapon. Skimming the two picnic tables where all the dive equipment for two people was laid out, the last beams of light being emitted from the retiring sun illuminated exactly what I needed; Dive-Buddy’s dive knife. I grabbed the handle attached to the 7’’ serrated stainless steal blade. Without warning I went on the attack and started slashing the offending couple. Oddly enough I came up on little resistance as the knife crosscut through the flesh and meat of the large creatures. I couldn’t see anything through the blizzard of lacerated Birthday Beast bits. The only sound I heard was ripping and tearing as if the blade was scissoring through thick fabric. With just a few seconds of stabbing, dicing, slicing and dissecting the massacre was over.

To my surprise, all that was left after my butchering rampage was a pile of polyurethane foam (the stuff couch cushions are made of) and some rubbery latex feeling gunk. The pile started to wiggle, I squealed, “Eeeeek!” and jumped up on one of the picnic tables as if a rat had just run across my toes. (Which is really funny considering I was still clutching my handy dandy weapon and had just single handedly taken out two of the most unearthly horrible creatures EVER.) Out from under the mangled litter popped two bunny-sized, big-eyed furry critters. I couldn’t identify them but they were really cute.

Looking dazed, the two rodents blinked confusingly first at me then at each other. With a few adorable squeaks of communication between them, the little fur balls scampered off to join the other woodland animals. Not wanting to have to explain to Dive-Buddy the weird pile of cushiony trash that was now being scattered around our campsite by the summer breeze I began to clean up. What I couldn’t burn in the campfire I through over the cliff into the quarry where it was quickly devoured by a school of hungry brim.

Just as I was satisfied the evidence of my temporary hysterical stabbing spree was all cleaned up, Dive Buddy returned and volunteered to organize our dive equipment and get it ready for use the next day. Therefore, I crawled into the tent and reflected on the evening’s events as I drifted off to sleep.

At first I was perplexed at how the darling little big-eyed furry critter that scurried out of my campsite start off as the dreadful, abominable monster that began torturing me so many years ago? How was a date on the calendar even able to transform itself into an object of misery? I have come to the conclusion that my birthday has always just been a harmless critter but my own mental hang-ups allowed the critter to warp into the Birthday Beast. It’s all about perception. I don’t think I’m alone in this; all humans have the ability to turn a molehill into a mountain. (Ok, so maybe not everyone turns the proverbial non-existent mountain into an imaginary self-destructive entity. But that’s just what I do for my own entertainment.)

I guess since the entire episode was over so quickly and ended up being such a non-event, I nearly forgot to document it.

So, Diary, since my perception on life has changed from being cold and menacing to being warm and fuzzy, this was probably the end of the Birthday Beast forever. I can’t say he’ll be missed but having him around was nothing short of interesting.

fini