in which i revise my birthday wish list ever so slightly

my original plan was to post about something completely different today, but then i saw this.

given that i'm notoriously hard to shop for, let me help everyone out by telling you i now know what i want for my birthday*.

there are 2087 days left (at the time of this writing) until my 40th birthday. by that point, billy idol will be 62 years old. given that he currently looks like this:

(he's on the right in this AP photo, for those who've lived under a rock for the past 30 years)

......what are the odds he'll still be able to dance around in a pair of leather pants (and not much else) without becoming the subject of ridicule in another 2087 days?

actually, i'd say they're pretty good. he's billy freaking idol, after all.

however, what if i no longer look good prancing around in leather pants by that point? (actually, come to think of it, i don't think it's possible for leather pants to look good on yours truly. some attire just isn't designed to flatter short people.) i don't want our meeting to be like one of those bad blind dates where you know what the other person's wearing but lie to them about what you'll be wearing so that when you first lay eyes upon them and realize they look not so much like gerard butler,

but more like gerard depardieu in drag,

you can try to obscure your face (with the groucho marx glasses you've thoughtfully stashed in your pocket, just because you knew it was highly unlikely that gerard butler's twin would actually be single and ready to mingle on www-dot-singleandlonely-dot-com***) and make a hasty exit, stage left, followed by faking your death in an effort to discourage further contact.

though billy idol in groucho marx glasses does make for an interesting mental picture, perhaps it'd be best to hedge our bets.

there are 260ish days until my 35th birthday. i'll work on  looking good in leather pants**** if you can figure out how to get me billy idol for my birthday.

*besides a shetland pony**.

**and new wheels for my rollerblades, which will undoubtedly have been worn down to the point that simply strapping them on will cause folks in vegas to start betting on how soon i'll make an involuntary skin donation to the asphalt down at the columbia canal.

***i was afraid to make that an actual link, as whatever it points to probably has either way too many internet cooties or way too many folks living with their parents not because of the economy or because they're acting as caregivers, but because the rest of society finds them socially unfit.

****you wouldn't happen to be able to recommend any stilt-walking classes, would you?