Happy Birthday To Me

Today I am a lively 126 years old, and I have to say, I'm probably prettier than everyone my age. Leonard says that I shouldn't say things like that about my peers, but then I say "Leonard, are you married to them? No. You think I'm pretty, don't you? Don't you? Please tell me I'm pretty, Leonard!" and then he says yes you are pretty and bakes me something and it is the best birthday.

So Leonard invited everyone over for a surprise party, except that he told me about it because if they actually had suprised me I would have gotten very angry at everyone for keeping secrets from me. So it was just a party party, I guess. Nessa was there with her three children, her husband Clive, her lover Duncan, Duncan's lover Bunny, and Clive's lover whose name I forget because she was actually quite hideous. Bunny is actually a person, which suprised me and disturbed me, but he said I was radiant, so fair enough. We ate some toffee, and played Pin The Coattail On The Arrogant Victorian Man, which is my favorite game, and I won! Of course, since it was my birthday, I didn't have to wear a blindfold. Leonard said that he didn't want me to be sad, but I think that he's just a sore Jew loser.

Then they dimmed the lights, even though it was the middle of the afternoon, and Leonard disappeared (by the way, whenever he does that and someone says "where's Leonard, Virginia?" I say that he's looking for the damned promised land. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA). Then Nessa made me sit in this chair in the middle of the room, and I thought that they were going to start playing Freud and Patient like Vita and I used to play (she's giving me her own party at 3:30 tomorrow morning, she says that the light of the middle of the night makes her look best and she is bringing PRESENTS), but they all started singing. I actually have never heard the "Happy Birthday To You" song, since Father forbid us to change octaves while we were growing up. Then Leonard returned, looking very proud of himself, wheeling with some difficulty a small brass tea cart. Atop the cart was what should have been a chocalate cake, but looked strangely like Lytton Strachey curled up into the fetal position (he did that a lot, it was his alternative to being a conscientious objector) and covered with a few inches of chocolate and marzipan and 126 flaming candles.

Five minutes went by with nothing happening. Ten minutes later, Leonard called for an ambulance, so right now Lytton is in the hospital. It seems that the man is allergic to chocolate, which is odd, because he is a homosexual. Everyone else has left to go to the hospital, but Leonard suggested that I should stay here, he said "Virginia, I think that if you see Lytton Strachey in a hospital bed with a serious illness about him, I am afraid that you would hurt yourself with laughter." I protested, but he was right; Lytton is such a goddamn bearded Nancy Lad that I would give all my birthday presents to see him in a hospital. A few years ago he got a bee sting on his face and cried about it, and I laughed at him and laughed at him until he broke up the engagement, proclaiming through big beardy sobs "If you want to marry a man so that you won't ever have to touch him, you can look elsewhere, VIRGINIA!" But I was laughing too hard to realize the severity of the situation, and anyway, Leonard loves me too much to touch me, so I WIN.

I wonder if Vita can come over early. It would be a shame for all this chocolate and marzipan in the room (Lytton had several convulsions before they carted him off, the pansy) to go to waste, and it should be dark enough by now for us to look at each other.