Where’s That Dang Piñata?

Today is Bob Dylan’s birthday.

Today is also my birthday. I’m 21. Again. Or rather, twice. Meaning 21 x 2.

(I know most of you guys are writers so you may need to ask for help on the math here. Look for that guy in your office who seems to know where to plug in the printer cable. He’s probably good at math. He'll know the answer.)

I have no idea how Bob will be celebrating his birthday today. Probably by  writing some impenetrable lyrics that he will later sing through his left nostril. (Totally kidding, Bob. Modern Times is, like, one of my favorite albums of all time. I once listened to it several times in a row on a 14 hour flight from Seoul and thought I saw God. [OK, check on the music reference. Now I can keep my standing as a rock music blogger for another few months.])

For you younger folks out there who may have no idea who Bob Dylan is, here’s a picture. Ask your Mom and Dad about him. Unless they're very cool parents, they'll probably say they don't like him at all. Or they'll say they detest him. There is no middle ground with Bob Dylan. People don't say, "Eh, he's all right." You either love him or want to stuff his CDs down his throat until those concert security guys pull you off him.

I also share my birthday with Michael Chabon. One of my favorite writers. (Here he is as well.)


(By the way, I seem to be going nuts with the parentheticals today. [What’s up with that? {it’s really getting annoying, isn't it? |Good Lord, when will I stop? \Too bad, it’s my birthday, and I’ll do what I want.\|}])

Do please leave me some birthday love in the comment section and also tell me what celebrity you share your birthday with.

In the mean time, I’ll be swinging a stick around the house, blind-folded, trying to find that rainbow donkey piñata. I know it’s around here somewhere.

Oh, wait! Better yet. I think I've finally found a festive way to invade Troy. That and some Carvel cake should make for a good time.