Why My Birthday's Kind Of Suck

If you’re reading this blog right now, I can safely assume you’re alive.  And, if you’re alive, I can also assume that you’ve had a birthday…

SO…Ok, here’s the deal.  I’ve had 43 birthdays.  As legend has it, the first few were a ton of fun.  I can’t remember them, so my mother would probably go on-and-on about how super-duper-awesome my birthday parties were as a child.  There’s no extensive documentation of any of this…There was no facebook nor blogs back then, and my mom claims she has approximately 25 thousand dark, grainy, and off-centered pictures in boxes located randomly in her house, but I have only seen a few pictures to certify my awesome childhood birthday parties.

 *Above is an actual picture of me at my 5th birthday party. Notice my mom meticulously cutting the cake.  I'm also pretty sure she cut my bangs, too*

*This is a picture of me at my grandmother's at my 15th birthday.  NOTICE THE STRANGE CANDLES in the cake.  Its like someone said "Oh crap, no candles!.. Here..shove these in."  And my sister looks like she knows that I'm getting ripped off.. she's the one in the glasses.  I don't know why my dad is attacking my grandma.*

Then I grew up, and the celebrations of my birth continued to decline.  When I was 19 I verbally mentioned that no one was making a big deal about the remarkable day when I was born.  My mother (yes, the same one who claims that she threw me amazing childhood birthday parties) tossed me a $20 dollar bill and told me to go get my own cake.  WHAT?  What happened to the ponies, and piñatas, and pin-the-tail on the donkey and stupid party games??  Has it come to this?? “BUY YOUR OWN CAKE?”  Woman, have you gone mad??  I can’t remember exactly what I did with the twenty, but I’m sure it involved vodka.

Any celebrations from 19 thru 39 are a complete blur, and not exciting enough for an honorable mention.  Yep, even the 21^st birthday was a lackluster event – completely unremarkable. 

THEN, A few years ago I turned 40.

This particular birthday, in a historical perspective, should be monumental.  I had made it semi-successfully through four entire decades without any MAJOR incidents.  I was pleasantly surprised.   It’s not that I thought I wouldn’t make it to 40 for any particular reason..  In fact, Billy Joel told me that only the good die young… so I was thinking I would be good for at least a few hundred years.

                                                             *actual picture of billy joel*

For reasons unexplainable and unknown to the common-man, I decided to spend this monumental birthday in Jacksonville with my family. 

We rented a condo at Amelia Island and I arrived fully prepared for my family to celebrate all 40 years of my awesomeness.  So, there I was, in the middle of my big celebration, when I came to realize that I was the only one celebrating.   Here is the conversation as I remember it:

Me:  HEY PEOPLE, in case you are wondering… yes, this is the day of my birth.

Sister:  Yeah, so?  Do you want something?

Me:  Yes, I would like a lobster.

Sister:  I can’t afford a lobster.  Buy your own lobster.

Me:  Ok, I’ll go to the store and buy my own lobster.

Sister:  Great, while you’re there, buy me and my husband lobster too.

So, for my birthday, I bought lobster for everyone.  So, far 40 was sucking the big one. 

Then came nite-nite time.  Yes, it was my BIG FREAKIN’ 40^th BIRTHDAY.. and we were all ready to hit the sack at the very reasonable, and normal 11pm.  

The room we were sleeping in had 2 twin beds.. one on each wall.  There was just enough room between the two beds for a blow-up bed on the floor.   And, for WHATEVER REASON,  my sister slept in one bed, my brother-in-law slept in the other bed… and I WAS STUCK ON THE BLOW-UP BED between the two of those nut-balls ON MY 40^th BIRTHDAY.   Did I fail to mention to everyone it was my birthday?  My 40^th birthday?  That I had bought everyone dinner?  The whole reason we got together was because it was MY BIRTHDAY? 

As I drifted off to sleep, I was beginning to feel that turning 40 sucked.  And when I woke up in the middle of the night, I realized that my blow-up bed had a hole in it, and it completely deflated and I was pretty much laying directly on the floor.  Then I knew for SURE that turning 40 sucked.    I had more fun at my first mammogram.

                       *This is NOT an actual picture, but I'm trying to give you people a visual.*

I noticed weeks later the mistake I had made on a pamphlet titled “Early Warning Signs of Dementia” – it listed one of the questions as:  Did you decide to spend your 40^th birthday with your family? If the answer is yes, please see your doctor immediately.

Birthdays are important.  So, unless you’re going to throw your loved-one a party, or sing songs about their numerous accomplishments and the height of their awesomeness, Or unless there is a piñata..and someone’s kid hits their dad in the groin with a bat, don’t bother..

Final disclaimer… If one person says to me “You’re age is only a number”  or  “You’re as young as you feel”… I may pull out my FIST OF DEATH and monkey-punch you in the face.  J