March 19, 2003
Haruna's birthday has recently come to pass. So, to celebrate, I got her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. I also prepared her presents: several classical music CDs and a nicely framed photo of us from our trip to Mt. Fuji.
I took her to dinner at a gorgeous restaurant atop a hill which overlooks downtown Michinoshi.
The view was fabulous that night; the lights of the city were spread-out below us. We dined on escargot wrapped in puff pastry and thin slices of Kobe beef served in a light mustard béarnaise.
Kobe beef almost melts in your mouth like velvety butter, it is an absolutely splendid gustatory delight. It was accompanied by red South African wine.
After our dessert of green-tea ice cream, I sat next-down to her and presented her gifts.
"May I open them now?" she asked.
"Go ahead, I hope you like them." I replied as I kissed her on the forehead.
The package rustled as she managed to neatly unwrap the photo without ripping the paper. "Oh!" She exclaimed. Haruna looked at me and her eyes started getting misty. Her lip trembled as if she was about to cry.
"Hon, are you okay?" I asked.
"Oh... it's... I'm so happy!" She wiped her tears and threw her arms around me. "I love you!"
I held her tight and she snuggled against me.
"Happy birthday, Haruna." I replied tenderly. "You are simply the best."
Yup, all syrupy saccharine aren't we? It nearly makes you want to puke...
This, in many ways, is in austere contrast to how Whorebag reacted to my efforts to celebrate her birthday. Let me describe my first attempt to give a lovingly-prepared birthday surprise to an individual who spends her existence pretending to not be an apparition of pure evil. (Yup. It just wouldn't be one of my pieces without the obligatory swipe at North American sows, would it?)
For Whorebag's birthday, I had a cake made-up at my favorite bakery. It was an Amaretto cake with vanilla frosting small enough for two. I accompanied it with a bottle of champagne. For her present, I got her a thick, heavy hardcover book covering the history of western art. This was one superb, all-encompassing collection.
It started-out with the sculptures of ancient Greece, and went through the middle ages and the renaissance up to the postmodern period. Every masterpiece was in there. Among many others, it had glorious full-color, fold-out displays of the finest pieces of the Louvre, the Uffizi Gallery, the N.Y. Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Hermitage. It was a gorgeous compilation and included sidebar biographies of the major artists. It was the kind of book that I think almost anyone, even someone who is not an art-lover, would have no real objection to.
It wasn't cheap, either. Big, quality hardcover books seldom are.
So, I came to her parents' house and I proudly presented her with all this. I thought it was a great gift. We enjoyed the cake, drank the champagne and she opened her present. She studied the cover of the book.
"Huh. We have to smarten me up, right?" She remarked jokingly.
And three days later, she gave the book back to me.
It was "boring".
Yup. You'd better believe she gave it back to me. It was just too "boring"(!)
SHE! GAVE! IT! BACK!
What the hell kind of mannerless total schmuck gives a birthday present back to the person who gave it to them?! Sure, if the present is something extremely extravagant, you might decline to accept it. You might say 'I can't accept this from you, it's too much'. Something like that. But to give back a boring present!
Isn't it common courtesy to gratefully accept a present, even if you don't like it? Seriously this is nothing more than what we learn in kindergarten. If you get a present you don't like you still say 'thank you'. And afterwards, maybe you might quietly give it to somebody else. Or you'll exchange it at the store where it was bought. You might even throw it out the next day. But what kind of sheer ignorance of etiquette compels you to toss a birthday present back at the person who gave it to you- because it is "boring"! Is this me simply making a big deal out of nothing, or does this tiny little incident actually speak volumes about the sheer level of social ineptitude and crassness that too many American chicks pretend they aren't infected with?
A shred of class simply doesn't reside in so many of the human-sized lice who infest my homeland. There just isn't any room for it when they have nothing but complete ingratitude and thanklessness for any form of munificence shown by a male! Goddesses demand tribute, a simple 'thank you' is grudgingly optional. Gratitude is something you must give to them, and never vice-versa.