That’s right, TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY. PAY ATTENTION TO ME FOR I AM THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!!!!
Ok, not really.. it’s more like duck and fucking COVER because I have a long standing history of terrible birthdays, things going awry, and just all around suckage.
I’m not being whiny (for once), really i’m not. It’s just well known FACT around these parts. I now look back at birthdays past and laugh. I can even KIND OF (grumble) take a deep breath of relief that I have absolutely no plans tonight because it means less of a chance for things to get ruined.
Allow me to give you some examples from the past few years… if I can remember that far.
Birthday 23- Pregnant. Some may think awesome, I think all day long horrid nausea. And this was the time where I was the first of my friends to get knocked up and they all thought I had the fucking plague and avoided me as such.
Birthday 24- Went out with friends, most of whom bailed on me after dinner. Wanted to go bowling, bowling alley CLOSED (seriously, what bowling alley closes before 11 on a Saturday night???)
Birthday 25- Alone. In an empty house. With no heat. In February. Oh, and did I mention unknowingly pregnant? That was a good one. Freezing while nauseous for seemingly no reason in a dark cold empty house that you fear a serial killer or cannibalistic blood sucking clown could creep out of the corners at any second is not exactly my idea of a good time to be had.
Birthday 26- Snowed in. No really, SNOWED THE FUCK IN. So much snow and ice that EVERY restaurant in the entire area closed down, effectively ruining my reservation at my favorite restaurant in the world. When I finally got to reschedule after the roads had cleared, even CALLED to make sure they’d be open? Got there, closed.
Have I mentioned how much I hate snow?
Birthday 27- After days of everyone in the house having the stomach flu, including myself (15 hours straight of puking) I had finally felt well enough to go out. Plans of karaoke were in motion… only I could not stop shitting. COULD NOT STOP. I blew up that smoky bar’s bathroom so many times I can’t even count. AND I was on my period. Shitting, bleeding, and next in line to sing.
You try belting out a tune while feeling like your ass is going to leak at any moment and see how that goes for you.
Plus I smelled like an old ashtray for a week afterward.
This year it looks like it’s going to be a mix of chronic pain and zero plans. Perhaps all the taco bell, cheesecake, and rum I plan to slam into my face will make both of those things not seem so bad. Here’s to hoping, right?
Plus, someone told me today that it’s clinically proven that those who have birthdays live longer, so what is there to complain about really?
Other than the wrinkles… and my new found embarrassment to admit my age, the gray hairs that seem to be popping through more frequently that are SO silver I could decorate a Christmas tree with them, boobs that will slowly begin to point toward the equator regardless of their lack of size, and a child who thinks i’m 60..
Yes, other than that, what could there be to complain about??
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