It’s my birthday. 35. Yikezoid. Scorpio to the core. Yes, go ahead and hate me–scorpio is the most reviled of all the astrological signs. I can’t imagine why.
Please send me tales of a)your weirdest birthday, b)worst birthday present, or c)your dream birthday celebration. Wait, wait…even better! Have you ever been on the receiving end of some bad scorpio vodoo?
5 thoughts on “calling all scorpios”
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Well, my mother’s a Scorpio…but I have to say of either parent (Dad’s a Virgo, like me), she’s always been the one to remember and make a fuss. I personally have a soft spot for Scorps.
However, there was that Scorpio guy I met at a hotel I was staying at when I was traveling alone in Italy who was in his fifties and his last girlfriend was a former high school student of his. I was 23 at the time, so I was OLD. He kept writing poems about me and trying to get me to kiss him. (I didn’t).
Hey, go to Yahoo news and you’ll see that you and Doonesbury (the entire strip) are exactly the same age.
Last night at dinner, the waitress asked our astrological signs and said that Scorpios and Sagitariiiii don’t mix. Gee, and you’re expecting a tip?
A couple weeks ago, the night before my birthday, I went to a costume party dressed as Ed Wood in pink-angora sweater drag. In the wee hours of the morning of my birthday, I was involved in a freak accident: as I was getting out of my friend’s jeep (he was Mr. Spock), which was parked on a hill, it popped out of gear, the emergency brake failed, and it rolled down the hill, dragging me along with it. Mr. Spock was run over. The car plowed through two fences and a Mercedes. Both of us were miraculously unhurt, aside from some pretty severe road rash.
The police didn’t believe that the jeep had been parked and no one was driving. To prove what happened, I pulled down my pants to show them the afforementioned road rash. It’s not every day that one has an opportunity to moon the police.
When I told all of this to a friend the next afternoon, she said, “Oh, you writers–always looking for a good story.”
My most disappointing birthday was my 40th. I thought I was together enough to not let it bother me, and I had practiced saying I was 40 all throughout 39, but it didn’t help. I was not happy (still not), but to try to mitigate things, my SO and I planned a trip to Monument Valley. I was expecting, and he had wanted to present me with, The Big Rock on our trip, but he just couldn’t afford it and felt so bad about not being able to give me that particular gift that he didn’t have anything for me. Nada. Zippo. Well, he had given me flowers and a worm box (for composting) before we left. But still–not even a card for me to open on my actual birth-day! On the bright side, it was a pretty incredible experience to see the sun rise behind the “mitten monuments.” And I have high hopes for my 50th.
Happy birthday! All the Scorpios I know are wonderful writers.
oh, these are wonderful! you’ve all out-scorpio-ed me.
Jordan: I’m glad you didn’t.
Scooter: I know your real name, and thank you for reminding me every year about the Tanya Harding/Charles Manson Connection. It keeps me humble. But the waitress is soooo wrong. You DO mix!
Noira: This is simply too, too weird. I hope you kept a photo of the road rash.
Suzanne: A worm box does not a proper present make. I hope he’s come through better on subsequent birthdays?