I get excited about my birthday because I grew up in a big family and that is the only day of the year I ever got any attention.  My Mom used to give us a choice for our birthdays: dinner alone with her, dinner with the whole family, or a sleepover party.  We usually chose the dinner with the family option, because if you chose to go out to dinner alone you would have seven siblings really angry with you, and the sleepover party option, well, I picked that option once, when I was in the eighth grade…  All of my friends had to have their parents drive 45 minutes from the nearest real town, and 2.2 miles down a dirt road to my house.  The road was very treacherous: the hills had nicknames, like “Jacob’s Ladder” because I think people stuck on them had a lot of time to kill waiting to be rescued.  It’s actually quite picturesque, where I grew up, the road was called Falls Road because there was a beautiful waterfall on it, but because we had to work so hard as kids, I don’t think I ever really appreciated the quiet splendor of those woods.  I don’t think a bunch of junior high school girls really appreciated it either, especially because my Mom’s idea of a special treat is pizzas we had to make from scratch, and she made us go to bed at 7 PM, with no talking allowed.  Of course it’s nearly impossible to keep seven girls of that age quiet, and my Mom has the ears of a Hawk and she would yell up the stairs when she even suspected there was whispering going on.  It was a good thing we were well-rested, however, because my Mom woke us up at 6 AM the next morning as it was my turn to muck out the horse stalls.   Birthday or not, there was work to be done, and I have never forgotten the image of my junior high school friends cleaning up horse poop.  That was the first and last sleepover party anyone ever chose for their birthday around my house.

This year I’m looking forward to a nice dinner out with my boyfriend, and I’m calling him that because he acts like my boyfriend and I heard it slip out of his mouth the other night when he was telling a friend who he was hanging out with.  Last night he took me out for a pre-Birthday drink, and we started chatting with another couple at the bar.  The women was ex-Hollywood, she had been a producer of some sort, and the man was Indian and wealthy, and it was my pre-Birthday so I told them the Aspiring Actor is not yet officially my boyfriend even though we have been dating exclusively for a while now.  When they were saying goodbye, the man slipped me a bar coaster with this written on it: “Some men need an ultimatum.  This is one of them.”

D-GIRL was a development girl in Hollywood and New York City for many years. While finding projects for actors, directors and producers to make into movies, she amassed a number of salacious tales of questionable morality that became an internet column entitled “D-Girl Diary.” She left show business to become a full-time writer in 2001.

(d girls image artist Tashina Suzuki)