I have a very good relation with rain. When I was born in Orissa, there were severe floods. Even now it rains on my birthday.
I actually had the pleasure of meeting David Bowie at his 50th birthday party in New York City. I handed him the cassette of ‘Eight Arms to Hold You,’ which I had just got an advance of that day. He very graciously thanked me and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
I have an ambivalent relationship with Margaret Thatcher. She came to power in May 1979 – a month before my 11th birthday. I was far too young to have developed a great deal of political awareness. I remember it, though – my mother excited at the dinner table because Britain had its first female prime minister.
I’m in a difficult position in the sense that, preposterous as this might sound, I don’t like being the centre of attention. I get up on stage every night and play songs, but I almost feel the songs are the centre of attention. I don’t like opening my birthday presents in front of people, either.
Mattresses! Beautiful! Let’s go buy a couple of mattresses. Give ’em to people for their birthday.
Working on good music is what brings happiness to my heart and I cannot think of a better way to spend my birthday.
Love the giver more than the gift.
My father took me and my about-to-be-traumatized friends to Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001’ for my 10th birthday party.
One week before my 17th birthday, I had a blind date with June Rose, a television actress on network soap operas, a model, and a regular on the popular Dick Clark’s Saturday night ‘American Bandstand’ show from New York. We were married five years later, one week after my graduation from Columbia.
Most of us have fond memories of food from our childhood. Whether it was our mom’s homemade lasagna or a memorable chocolate birthday cake, food has a way of transporting us back to the past.
Even when I was an engineer, I was a comic on my job. At birthday and holiday parties, I was the one scheduling and emceeing. If you work on your gift, and you’re good, it will shine through.
Interventions are really emotionally exhausting and I would never ever want to have one. In the same way, I would never want to have a surprise birthday party. That would be horrible.
Citizens, thank you for all your birthday wishes. I am 88 years old today and still lucky to live in the greatest city in the world.
It is ironic that the one thing that all religions recognize as separating us from our creator, our very self-consciousness, is also the one thing that divides us from our fellow creatures. It was a bitter birthday present from evolution.
I count the weeks and days before my birthday.
It turns out I share a birthday with Jose Mourinho. He is exactly 10 years older than me.
I remember I asked my mom for a ukulele, and she said no because she thought I would never play it. So then I got my birthday money up, and I bought my own. It was the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done.
I believe that if writers want their readers to care about a character, they have to care themselves. I have to root for a detective who screws up as much as Thorne does, who shares my birthday, my North London stomping ground, and my love of country music, both alt and cheesy.
I’ve looked after my money. As I started working around my third birthday, my first check went straight to the bank.
On my 50th birthday in 2005, my discount-wielding AARP card came in the mail. I hurled it in the trash, put on something fabulous, and had a decadent meal. Just the thought of putting it in my wallet felt like a concession.
Early on, when my wife and I were dating, we went to the grocery store, and I told her that sometimes I just buy birthday cakes, and I eat them. And she said: ‘Really? I do, too.’
You take away all the other luxuries in life, and if you can make someone smile and laugh, you have given the most special gift: happiness.
I can still remember the afternoon, on my 15th birthday, when I opened up ‘The Virgin and the Gypsy,’ D.H. Lawrence’s novella, in my tiny cell in boarding school, and whole worlds of possibility opened out that I had never guessed existed. The language was on fire and sang of liberation.
It was on my fifth birthday that Papa put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Remember, my son, if you ever need a helping hand, you’ll find one at the end of your arm.’
I’d be happy to live till 80 as long as I was comfortable and in good health. Mind you, ask me again on the eve of my 80th birthday. Even so, I hope we don’t all start living to be 120. I’m not sure I’d cope with another 60 years.
I decided if you’re lucky enough to be alive, you should use each birthday to celebrate what your life is about.
I wanted Cathy and Irving to actually say ‘I do’ and be pronounced husband and wife on Feb. 5, which is my mom’s birthday.
There are probably about 50 comedians who would come to my 50th birthday party but I’m not sure how many of them would come to my funeral.
My mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday, so I said I wanted to read poetry with her.
I used to go down every year for the remembrance of Elvis’ birthday. Memphis State College invited me to sit in the auditorium and speak to the people for one of those Elvis days.
I tried to bake a cake for my mother’s birthday – it took me four hours. It was terrible, and I cried for three days.
I know that might sound silly coming from someone my age, but I remember on my 14th birthday having a crisis like my mom should be having. I kept thinking that I was getting older, and I haven’t really accomplished anything. I remember thinking that I better accomplish something real soon.
For me, the end of childhood came when the number of candles on my birthday cake no longer reflected my age, around 19 or 20. From then on, each candle came to represent an entire decade.
I never missed a birthday. I never missed a school play. We carpooled. And the greatest compliment I can ever get is not about my career or performance or anything; it’s when people say, ‘You know, your girls are great.’ That’s the real thing for me.
Everybody should plant a tree on any happy occasion or birthday and celebrate.
Facebook lets me be lazy the way a man in a stereotypical 1950s office can be lazy. Facebook is the digital equivalent of my secretary, or perhaps my wife, yelling at me not to forget to wish someone a happy birthday or to inform me I have a social engagement this evening.
Less than two weeks before my 34th birthday, I bought pots. Most people were amazed that I did not previously own pots, but that was before I explained that I had never used my oven, and used my stovetop for my dishrack.
Ask any teenage girl to describe her perfect bedroom, and you’ll get answers like ‘a room with a private phone line, a place to hang out with friends, and for it to be way-cool and funky.’ Ask parents the same question, and ‘a locked door that opens on their 21st birthday’ might top the list!
Yes, I grew up with guns. For my 16th birthday, in fact, I received a .357 instead of a car. But there was nothing playful about them; they were tools. My parents went through a back-to-the-land phase. Most of our vegetables and fruits came from our own garden.
I’m not really big on gifts. I like giving back on my birthday.
I have always told my family that I don’t want my birthday to be celebrated and that they shouldn’t get me anything, even though if they didn’t I’d probably write a standup routine about it.
The summer before my third year of law school, I worked at a law firm in Washington, D.C. I turned 25 that July, and on my birthday, my father happened to be playing in a local jazz club called Pigfoot and invited me to join him. I hadn’t spent a birthday with him since I was 3, but I agreed.
I was quite a shy child. I would get terribly nervous and throw up before my birthday party. And then I would be fine. I feel the same now. I get nervous, then it’s fine.
I started with Katie, a doll I got on eBay on my 10th birthday. I don’t use her anymore. I’ve got a new Katie now, a real ventriloquist’s puppet.
The first posh meal out I had was on my 10th birthday.
I definitely break out karaoke when my friends have birthday parties.
And for the city’s birthday, we will host events in every neighborhood of the city, inviting all of our residents to share in the celebration of Boston’s great epic – the story of neighbors who support one another where it matters most.
There is still no cure for the common birthday.
If Congress can move President’s Day, Columbus Day and, alas, Martin Luther King’s Birthday celebration for the convenience of shoppers, shouldn’t they at least consider moving Election Day for the convenience of voters?
I like to go to anybody else’s birthday, and if I’m invited I’m a good guest. But I never celebrate my birthdays. I really don’t care.
On my 50th birthday the Rolling Stones played at my party at Grosvenor House. That’s not bad for a kid from Tooting.
When I was 11, I had an Ugly Sister birthday party. All my idea. Most girls want to be a fairy or a princess, but there I am with beauty spots and fur and fluorescent pink kiss-curls.
I was standing right behind Marilyn, completely invisible, when she sang ‘Happy birthday, Mr. President.’ And indeed, the corny thing happened: Her dress split for my benefit, and there was Marilyn, and yes, indeed, she didn’t wear any underwear.
