Carmine’s birthday is ruined again! • Brooklyn Paper

Carmine’s birthday is ruined again!

I’m madder than a kid in a candy store who doesn’t have two pennies to rub together over the fact that there are so many distractions in the world today that people are forgetting all the important things — like my birthday!

Look, you all know that the ol’Screecher turned three score and 18 years this week, but there was so much going on in the world that everyone — including my lovely wife Sharon — forgot about it, and nothing makes me madder than when I don’t get the credit I deserve for living so long.

Now I don’t need to tell you that things like V-J Day have interrupted my birthday in the past and taken the spotlight off yours truly, and this year it happened again!

First, there was all this A-Rod stuff on the Zenith in the living room getting everybody in an uproar. Folks, not sure if you know this, but my birthday is more important than the return of a cheater. And if my saint of a mother was alive today, she would never have stood for Major League Baseball making any announcements within a month of the birthday of her precious package she called Carmine.

And the worstest part about this whole A-Rod thing is that it monopoly-ized the Eyewitness News, so both me and Ernie Anastos had no idea that I might have won the Pick 3 using the number my blessed father demanded I always play: 503 (for the amount of money I had the undertaker slip into his pocket at his wake).

Turns out the 305 that came out on my birthday came out in blasted New Jersey, and instead of collecting the 500 or so smackeroos I thought I rightfully had won, I was out my bet!

But I digress (see! There are too many distractions!).

Then came the disaster that was my latest trip to Atlantic City.

This time, I invited a bunch of old friends to come with me so they could treat me to dinner and cake on my big occasion. My paisano Carmelo, who I’ve been friends with since grammar school, and his wife Susan were happy to meet me, two other couples, and Sharon at the Taj, where we would get together, gamble, and, of course, wish me a happy birthday.

Little did I know that Carmelo and Susan had just become grandparents, and all during the trip their daughter Kary and her hubby Kyle were sending photos of the bundle of joy for all of us to see.

Now, I love looking at pictures of the grand kids as much as the next guy, but at some point I expected, at the vert least, an “Oh, by the way Camine, happy birthday.” Well, you know what I got? Bupkis.

That’s right, no cake, no free dinner, nothing.

We met for breakfast at 10 am, and Susan greeted me with a “Happy belated birthday!” The other two couples chimed in, “Oh, it’s your birthday? Nobody told us!”

I pointed to my old pal Carmelo and screechd, “He knew!”

The lesson learned here is never share your birthday with new grandparents.

Screech at you next week!

Read Carmine's screech every Saturday on BrooklynDaily.com. E-mail him at diegovega@aol.com.

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