Birthdays

So tomorrow is a big day for me – it’s my Birthday.

And it got me thinking about Birthdays and how silly they are. They aren’t that special, everyone has one. But…you think your own birthday, obviously, is the tits. Everyone wakes up and is like “OMG it’s my Birthday”. And then their super awesome best friends ask if you feel older. And you don’t. Only if you can buy cigs and porn or actual drink your first legal beer. But honestly how satisfying was your 21st birthday? If you’re like me you’d been to the bars since you were, oh about 17, and you spent the latter portion of your night holding on for dear life to the porcelean thrown because you thought you were the man.

I mean how freakin’ special are you if even facebook lists your birthday with 6 other people. And alphabetically nonetheless…shouldn’t they do it by how many pics are tagged of you? or how many friends or wall posts you have? Just kidding I don’t actually have that many friends or pics… facebook makes me angry no one on my former college campus would have known it was my damn birthday if it didn’t show up in the mini feed, I mean, WTF.

And then there are Birthdays that clump together. And you have to have a big birthday extravaganza. Or scratch that even if it’s just one Birthday there’s all that pressure to throw a cool party. But can you organize your own birthday? is that tacky? What if no one show’s up to your sweet party? And then what happens when you turn a quarter of a century, or even half a century? Do you stop counting? Count backwards? Lie. All burning questions…another burning questions is this birthday causing me to have a quarter life crisis? If i live to 92 the answer is a resounding yes.

So I guess what I’m saying is that tomorrow is just another day in my life. People will most likely buy me a few presents, give me hugs for just being born, and I will get incredibly intoxicated with 50 of my closest friends, and hopefully not reach the black before 10 p.m. (which is entirely possible). But hey happy bday to me!

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