Happy Birthday to Dave

I do miss Twitter, so here's some odds n' ends I'd have tweeted today

Thank you to all who left b-day wishes. Don’t forget to vote in the “choose Dave’s next long-form piece” contest!

One a-hole unthubthcribed today as a birthday gift: Rick Williams. I emailed him and called him a dick, and I felt better.

I’m doing a subdued birthday this year, in part because 56 is not a landmark, just a sadness: you’re now on the bad side of 55. Though I think you can still say “mid-fifties.” I have one year left until I’m forced to say “late fifties.”

I let a good friend take me out to dinner yesterday, but other than that, I’m staying home because I gotta stay sober ‘til November, so going out, which I don’t like doing anyway, is even less fun.

On August 30th a new Holocaust book was released by Macmillan’s UK subsidiary, and it seriously defames me. I have to let that shit go in the U.S. because our defamation laws aren’t conducive to lawsuits. But the UK? I may just pursue this one. I emailed the author. I got no response, but I did get a laugh…

Dude’s a white professor at an American HBCU (not one of the big ones like Spelman, Morehouse, or Tuskegee). So I tried looking up the guy’s faculty page, and it turns out all my browsers - Chrome, Microsoft, Opera, Vivaldi, Firefox - block URLs from that school because of suspected malware.

Ain’t that a kick in the ass? Cybercrime is the ONLY crime blacks don’t do. How can you write malicious code when you can’t even write your own name?

Wow, that was mean. Gimme a birthday pass on that one (not sure what my excuse will be tomorrow).

Anyway, I’ll keep you abreast (and acunt) of the updates. As of now, I’m hoping to settle it amicably with Macmillan.

Lots of very nice birthday texts from friends, from old girlfriends to Ann Coulter (I even got a “singing haw-haw-haw-agram” from Tucker). But in the middle of it, I was thrown for a loop upon seeing that an old, dear friend got herself a nose job. My beloved Paulie, one of my best drinking buddies ever and a girl I always saw as a little sister (to corrupt), had a passing resemblance to Audrey Hepburn (Paulie’s Mexican, so I called her “Audrey Hepbean”).

I met Paulie when she was 19, and we had many fun-filled heavy drinking nights. For my 39th birthday, we went to Vegas (“we” being Paulie, the abysmal Rosie, and Natalie, the only Frenchperson I’ve ever liked…she actually didn’t stink or anything). This was my view upon shambling out of my room at our Polo Towers suite at noon on 9/2/07.

Hepbean is the one in the middle.

What a fine week he had! Just drinking nonstop.

Fuck I miss it. Not the girls…the drinking. Oh God how I want a drink. Not sure I’ll make it to November.

Anyway, Paulie had a very, shall we say, “Roman” nose. It’s why I never found her attractive; I’ve never been into a woman whose nose can be used to open an oil can (no offense…please, no offense!).

Last night I found out she’d had “work done.” It’s not a bad job; certainly does make her look more like Hepburn (she’s in NYC so I assume it’s a New York plastic surgeon wot dunnit, and it does look better than the standard Beverly Hills template). But the thing is…40 is really late in life to get a non-age-related facial procedure. Skin tuck? Eyelid lift? Sure. But you committed to that nose a long time ago. You have 40 years of history with that nose. Everyone’s gonna notice.

It seems she did it for a job, portraying Hepburn in a Henry Mancini Moon River music video (wait…didn’t he die 30 years ago? Is he a zombie? Mancini or MONSTERcini?).

As I’ve been rather cruel in my description, I might as well direct some traffic to the fucking thing as penance.

Paulie’s the body double seen mainly from behind typing a letter and doing a voiceover. It works; she almost fooled me for a moment that it was the real Hepburn typing that angry letter to AT&T for putting a hole in her wall while installing fiber optics (“Dearest dolls and lovelies at AT&T, do fix the masonry or I’ll kick the living shit out of you, you fecal-faced douchebags”).

But…how big a market is there for Mexican Audrey Hepburns? I hope that music video payed for the cost of the procedure (I doubt insurance covered a nose job when the stated reason for it was “to resemble a dead cancerous British/Dutch actress in a music video by a dead cancerous Italian composer”).

Still, it’s better than if she’d gone the Edward James Olmos impressionist route. Although that procedure is insanely cheap (just pour battery acid on your face).

Alright, back to pining for rum.

As I’ve bafflingly managed to survive one more year on this fine and terrible earth.

BUY ME A BEER! I promise, the dough’s just used for food.

Until November.