My Birthday

My Birthday:
With yesterday gone I am now one year older, one year wiser, and one day closer to never wanting to have children.
From the beginning of this trip I have held to the belief that the Japanese individuals have been most kind and caring. I also thought that the entire country had bound together in honoring my presence through declaring my birthday to be a national holiday. They have called this holiday “Sports Day,” since I am quite the sportsman and all. So with this kind gesture I quietly and calmly thanked them by desiring to sleep in on the day of my birth, as well as the day of no school due to “Sports.” However I soon learned that I had been deceived and that “sports day” was none other then “shrill-voice-on-the-loudspeaker-day-while-children-laugh-and–scream-in-‘in-pubescent’-voices-while-Danny-is-trying-to-sleep-on-his-Birth”-day.
Now for a little background information: my room is on the edge of our little quaint campus, tucked neatly away next to a wall which blocks in a little Catholic elementary school, a school in which there is no God (and if he is there then I must have been very bad this year…which I may or may not have been, so I would like to withdraw the comment. God is alive and well in “Our Mary of the Screaming lil’ booger-chan Elementary School,” thank you Lord in advance for forgiveness). So as I awoke on the morn of my 23rd year on this earth by the screams of delight and amazement of many little Japanese saints outside of my window I was alarmed and thought that perhaps there was some sort of criminal effort going on across the way. But then I heard the bass begin to pump as the squeals ascended towards the heavens and “Sports Day” was underway. The whole event reminded me a lot of the different scenes from various WWII films in which people of Jewish decent were forced to run about a courtyard while music was blared over a cheap PA system. However Sports Day did not end with gratuitous deaths or anything of the sort; just cheap ribbons and a lot of little tykes sleeping like pet rocks later that night. So overall it was good for the kids but not for the wicked. I don’t think that any of this was assisted by the alcohol that I had drunk the night before in celebration of twenty-three wonderful years; I love you mom and don’t be mad at me…it was Andres, those crazy Spaniards will do anything to get an honest and innocent youth to partake in the devil’s sweet ambrosia…Well my friends I hope that some of this makes sense and that you are enjoying my little observations. If you could please take a moment and make a little comment so that I can write things that make you happy and feel good inside…or at least make you laugh a little bit more. I don’t want to be boring or waste any of your time…but I do want to share my experiences. I would also like to take this moment to recognize the Union of my Cousin Heather, the new Mrs. Kyle Markhardt…or Markhart…or Markedhart….er, Markhartengerhouser…er, Mrs. Markymarkandthefunkybunch…Mrs. Kyle. There, that has a nice ring to it. I have heard that everything went off great and I am very excited for the two of you. I would have personally delivered this message, but I don’t have any of your personal information. So for what it’s worth good luck and go get ‘em. Oh yeah; I would also like to add that I am going to kick your booty in “SceneIt” when I come back to the United States Mr. Markharderheart, or Kyle as it were. G’Bye.