Happy Birthday Yet Again, Doc Sleaze!

It's that time of year yet again. Another year older, but still no wiser. At least this year I'm feeling better than I did last year: then I was still recovering from a badly upset stomach the week before, and was in introspective mood, following yet more problems at work. This time I'm feeling perfectly healthy and, although work is still a living hell, I've got the entire week off, so I don't have to think about it. As ever, I'm not really doing much to actually celebrate my birthday. One of the problems of having a birthday in February is that the weather is usually still cold, damp and overcast, which just doesn't put anyone in the mood for celebrating. However, I did take the opportunity to spend most of the afternoon in the cinema, watching True Grit. Despite attending what was supposedly a cheap performance, it cost me an arm and a leg, and reminded me of why I rarely see films at the cinema these days. That said, I did enjoy the film, which provides an interesting contrast with the 1969 version with John Wayne - far less sentimental and far, well, grittier.

Anyway, all these birthday 'celebrations' mean that I didn't get around to writing a new story for The Sleaze, as I'd intended to - I thought about it over the weekend but, in the end, I couldn't be arsed. Hopefully, I'll get round to it later this week. Actually, I had a pretty frustrating weekend. Yesterday, I'd intended to watch my recently acquired DVD of The Blue Max. However, my new DVD player, (the one I had to buy in a hurry on New Year's Eve when the old one died), at first refused to play it, then proceeded to jump and freeze throughout it. When, in frustration, I retrieved it, I found that the surface had been scratched and scored by the player, (it had been unmarked when I put it in the player's tray). This isn't the first time this DVD player has given me problems. In the short period I've owned it, it has had problems with several DVDs which played perfectly both on its predecessor and my laptop. This is the first time it has damaged a disc, though. In desperation, I plugged my old DVD player back in and connected it to the TV. Incredibly, it worked and managed to play most of the disc, in spite of the damage inflicted by its successor, only one brief section toward the end defeated it. The old DVD player continues to work and has now been restored as my main player. Quite bizarre.

As I'm in a relatively good mood, I'm loathe to end this post on a pernickity note, but, there is something that has been bugging me for a long time now. Whilst I don't expect people to remember my birthday - I don't tend to advertise it in advance, after all - there are various people whose birthdays I do remember. Every year, at the very least, I text or speak to them to wish them a happy birthday. Does a single one of them reciprocate, even though some of them must know when my birthday is? No. Not one of them. So how about it? I know some of you read this blog. You don't have to send a card. A text or an e-mail will do. I'm not holding my breath, though.