Of birthdays bathrooms and other B..

One cannot but be excited by ones day of birth.The days beyond hold immense promise.regardless of the situation.I am ,as many others are, excited by this
truly magical moment.Though , however, i cannot help wondering as to why.it is just another day ,right? labour day is a holiday.yes? aids day? what about it?
women's day?? and I wont even go into valentine's day and the lot.
I am to be hailed as the protector of the universe, starting with manhattan of course, on this day.lauded and fauned upon as a darling of the masses.
I was, afterall, born;
and I don't even remember it. Most of my conscious memory was spent eating and pooping.and to quote a famous philosopher ..'I poop therefore I am'.

Truly.The bathroom(toilet, lavatory, loo, john, bog) is the only place I can fathom where one is assured of privacy.A place where you are left to your self. Introspection of the deepest sorts , I say, takes place here.Men** change on trips to bathrooms.A trip to the bathroom, normally a quiet moment in anyone’s life, becomes an absurd entry wedge into metaphysical disharmony sometimes, as pulp-fiction very successfully demonstrates.John(oh that's why!) travolta is in a situation every time he makes a trip to the loo.


I forget what I started out to write.



**I am not sure about women.