Birthday alarm

One time when I was like 9, I got the worst flu in the history of time. It was tragic because not only, was I vomitting every thirteen minutes, have the highest temperature on record, and the inability to sleep for more than 20 minute intervals, but I also had the chicken pox. No, this seriously happened. Awful, right? No it gets worse. In the middle of the plague that infested my pink gingham bedroom was, get this, my ninth bithday. Yes, it was my birthday and I was the walking dead. Oh, my mom tried to make it fun with a nutritious birthday pedialyte and a new lovely ice pack- but she also bought me a tv with cable- which made the pestilence a little more bareable. That birthday was horrific, but it taught me a lesson. That lesson was this: Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean that you're going to have a good day. It's a hard pill to swallow at the tender age of nine, but then again what isn't?

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I haven't tried to have fun on my birthday every (goddammed) year, but something always comes and screws it all up. I say I want it low key and I end up in some Irish pub on a college campus with like 15 of my coworkers. I say I want a party and suddenly everyone is busy. Check this out. Recently on my birthday, I planned what I thought was the most brilliant of plans. All I wanted was to go to my favorite restaurant. Crowd be damned- I just want me and my favorite people to eat my favorite food. That is ALL I want. So I say to anyone who wants to know- "Hey, I'm going to Char's. Come if you want to." Surprisingly, alot of people responded! I was pretty shocked and (here's where the giant mistake got made) I began to think "Hey, maybe life isn't that bad. Maybe I do have alot of good friends.Maybe it really is all good. So an hour before dinner, two of my girls from work cancel. One actually had the decency to call and break my heart, the other told me through TEXT. Then, my oldest friend calls and says she has a knee injury from rehearsal and she really shoudn't go out because she needs to rest up for her show. Then, another one of my friends, someone who has never let me down when it comes to a party before calls- she has to work "Can we all possibly meet her around 11pm?" The thing was, some actually wonderful people showed up that night. But, since I had so foolishly gotten my hopes up, all I could do was feel like shit all night. A few days later was my best friend's boyfriend's birthday. (A guy I don't even like.) Guess who got guilted into trekking her black ass to his shitty birthday party? Exactly.

That brings me to my next point. It seems like everyone elses birthday is always diamonds and roses but mine never EVER is. My best friend has monumental birthdays every year. She has like eight parties and everyone always has fun. Oh my God, I took her to Vegas for her 21st birthday! I have this other friend from an old job who gets the most rockstar birthdays I've ever seen! I'm talking champagne, clubs, limos- destinations! Last year, there was this guy I was pretty obsessed with, he'd had a pretty lousy year so I wanted to show him an awesome time. I went all out! I took him to this awesome restaurant where our meals got COMPED! We went VIP to like 4 clubs in Scottsdale! I'm not kidding, I even got this gorgeous dancer/model from inside the club to make out with him. I said "It's my friend's birthday" and pointed and she went and shoved her tongue down his throat. BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. So good infact that here, a year later, we barely talk and he just invited me to his birthday- you see how that goes? Hey, question: Did he even make an appearance at my low-key birthday dinner at my favorite restaurant. Answer: What the hell do you think?

I'm not gonna lie- I would try to say "Fuck my birthday" and just never celebrate it, but then you know what would happen? I'd just get pissed off that no one cared enough about me to throw me a birthday party. God, I just hate my fucking birthday! I have the most prime day of the year for a birthday too. Right before summer! It should be the best party day- but hell no. What am I really celebrating anyway? The fact that I was born? Well that's no cause for celebration! I mean, cool, I'm here, but what does that mean? One crazy night in August my parents got a little horny and nine months later- me. Whoopdi-frickin-do. Or are we really celebrating the fact that I haven't died yet? Wow, that's a joyous occasion. "Yay! You haven't contracted a fatal disease or been hit by a bus! Have some cake!"

Here's what I'm gonna do. No, I'm not gonna say "fuck my birthday". I'm gonna say "Fuck ALL birthdays." Yeah, you heard me. I'm going on strike. I will sit in thisvery spot oblivious to the day you were born until I get one good birthday. I'm not asking for a plane ticket to Maui or a new car or even an epic party. All I'm asking for is one good day. A day where nobody cancels, a day where our fun plans actually get executed. A day where I don't get sick. A day I don't have to work three jobs. I just want it to be a day I can look back on and not think "If only (insert catastrophic thing here) hadn't happened. I bet it would have been fun." That's right, no birthdays until mine works, once. Sorry- that's just how it's gonna be. So there ya go.