Don't Read until Reading

...the Preceding Blog Post. [Actually, due to Blogger's strangenesses, you have to scroll down to see it. It's called "Preposterity."]

Right. I have to continue, effective where yesterday left me and I left you (cruelly, just after dispensing [for your edutainment] my singular brush with Vanilla Ice). Thus refined...

Molly and I considered July 27th, but we didn't feel like summer's peak would have been an acceptable site for a revised birthday. Besides, any time spent in the Southern hemisphere would find Molly in a similarly bleak situation (as July 27th is her menological antipode). So, really, we kind of discarded/disregarded the whole idea.

Then, I had a conversation with a dear old friend, in which this topic surfaced. It was embraced as "a great idea," and then encountered the rather-lazy suggestion that I adopt that person's birthday [November 21st] as a guarantee that he would remember it:

HE: So, how about it, Benb?
ME: Oh, no. I refuse to take your birthday. And I can't stomach such proximity to Scorpios. Jesus. 

Le plus diffiçile, indeed. But then, there appeared an idea.

ME: How about May 21st [antipode of November 21st]? Think that you could remember that?
HE: Yes, I do!
ME: Plus, that's Mr. T's birthday!
HE: Wow. I love Mr. T.
ME: Yeah, me too. I mean, he pities fools, and so do I!

(Interesting aside: I'd thought for most of my life that Mr. T had a "mere" mohawk. I don't know what precipitated such a profound shift in awareness for me, but I realized that what he actually had was his hair crafted into a T [sans serif] on his head, with the arms of the letter represented at the base of his head. Revelations.

So, May 21st it is. Oww!

Shocking, I know, but I'll have to forego telling you of birthday surgery until the next. My apologies.

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