Birthday Post-Mortem

Is anybody else really uncomfortable when a group of people gather around them to sing Happy Birthday? It might just be me. What am I supposed to be doing when people are singing to me? Where should I look? Do I look at the cake, or do I focus on somebody's mouth and enjoy the music? What should I do with my hands? Should I keep them by my sides, or should I wave them around like a conductor? For the record, I kept my arms at my sides, and watched my wife's mouth. She rarely sings in front of me, so I figured I'd look for evidence as to why. When the song ended, I quickly vogued for a not-so-candid photo, then blew out the candles immediately.

"Did you make a wish?", my wife asked.

"Yes. I wished that you wouldn't sing to me next year."

In hindsight, I think this might have hurt her feelings, so I'd like to clarify. Honey, it's not you, it's me.

I found nothing wrong with your singing. I think you should sing more. You have a lovely voice. You're more of a "performer" than a "singer", but you allright dawg. You worked it out. That was hot! You're a member of the dawg-pound tonight! Woof, woof, woof. I heard some pitchiness on the other side of the room, but you stayed on key and brought it home at the end with the glory note. You're a star. You almost made me cry. Round one goes to Mrs. Undaground.

As stated above, I just have some personal issues to work out that are associated with being sung to.

Truth be told, that wasn't my actual wish. I wished for a piece of cake. Since my wish was quickly granted, I feel that I can talk about it now.

Undaground, out.