Made in Japan, Outsourced Globally

As usual, my birthday was extraordinary. Extra. Ordinary. On the rock.

I actually shied away from announcing my coming of age this year - it always makes me uncomfortable because I set up expectations and nothing happens. Other times, things happen, but I make people feel that they "have to" celebrate what would have been a nonchalant day for them.

People are going to celebrate me and Bart's birthday tonight - but what most won't know is that mine has already past. I don't even like writing that word on here anymore. birthday. ick - it's such a self-elevating ritual that makes casual friends make mediocre purchases or Hallmark the word of the day. Don't get me wrong - I'm not 'aging' averse. I'm just 'my birthday' averse. And I LOVE celebrating other people's birthdays - if I can remember them at all.

Perhaps that's it - I always forget other people's birthdays so I can't cope with the guilt of it on my own birthday.

But back to what I wanted to say. Yes, the day started normal enough - caffeine, people buzzing in the office, lunch, meetings, caffeine. And then the birthday card that people signed 2 weeks ago was dropped off by the secretary. More typing, discussions, caffeine. The tea lady saw the cards on my desk and immediately gave me her secret stash of snacks as a birthday gift. Company dinner after work, because the big big boss was in town.

The dinner conversation almost choked me. Family planning, didgeridoo, Bush's glorious comeback, German superiority complex, abalone, golf, Wal-mart in China, tongue-in-cheek driver stories. At the neighboring table, the Filipino group drank their beer and beckoned me to sit next to their cute and single colleague. Too bad all the seats were taken - I kicked myself a dozen times for having bad timing.

The group trimmed down to 2/3 and headed to karaoke. I cursed the person who chose "Wannabe" by the Spicegirls and myself for not having drunk enough beer. Some great singers in the house - who knew our quiet Shanghai colleague had a thing for 'Michael Learns to Rock'? And as usual, big big boss gave us his deep, Louis Armstrong singing - awesome. We warily watched and listened to big boss belt out 'Hotel California' to the music video of women in one-piece bathing suits and naked little boys on the beach of Beihai. Disturbing. For so many reasons. But hands down, the Filipinos put everyone to shame. My gosh, they can sing! At one point, I asked one of the guys to marry me (but of course, I was turned down - I don't think he wanted to break his marriage).

After the English-speaking crew left for the hotel and midnight con calls (hey, it was a Thursday night and only Thursday morning in the US), 5 of us stayed behind for Chinese and Japanese karaoke. It was a bit bizarre for me to spend my day this way, but after a bit of 'Southern All Stars', a tequila popper, and a consolation karaoke version of 'Happy Birthday' for forgetting my birthday, nothing seemed more comforting.

In the morning, I told the details of my bizarre day to Duncan. He greeted me this morning with presents - "Bridget Jones' Diary" and "Edge of Reason." I was a happy girl.