32 years ago today, the wailing, slimy, wiggly flesh log that would eventually become 30sinprogress, was introduced to this world. Yeah, it's my GD birthday. I realize that blogging about my birthday is rather.... lame, but you'll forgive me for it soon enough, so I'm not worried.
I've never fully understood the concept of celebrating one's birthday. Yay, everyone look at me, lets celebrate ME because I was... born? What an accomplishment, hoorah! So, then, if we're going to do it, let us do it up correctly. We'll all get together, and race to see who can shove the biggest piece of crappy white cake into their mouth, while simultaneously taking cheap shots at the birthday boy. "So, why aren't you married yet?!"... "How OLD are you now?! (which is always followed by "wow I didn't know you were THAT old!)"..."How is your career going?!"..."You should do this, and this, and this with your life, because I'm eating cake and therefore I know everything about you!" In a way, birthdays are an annual reminder of one's failure to succeed, and a countdown to one's eventual and inevitable demise. Ahh, birthdays, how I adore thee.
Can you guess what the most recognized song in the English language is? Yep. The friggin "happy birthday to you" song. Whether I'm (forced to be) singing that song, or the subject of it as others sing, I find its melody to be excruciatingly painful. Is it just me? Maybe. Probably. Why can't I pick the song that I want sung to me? After all, it is MY special day, isn't it? Next year, I'm going to make everyone sing Enter Sandman to me for my birthday. Now THAT would be a good birthday celebration... I can picture it now, my 92-year-old great Aunt Lil' singing, "...off to never never land, heh heh!"
Sarcasm aside for a moment (a very short moment, though, because I start to get cold sweats if I stray too far), I do selfishly enjoy the compliments, and the attention. I'll never ask for the attention... but that doesn't mean that I don't like it once in a while. I really didn't think that anyone would even notice that it was my birthday, but my Facebook page is full of happy b-day wishes, I've gotten calls (one from my mom's entire South Eastern swim team), timely text messages... and have been subjected to a day full of b-day embarrassments at work.
To all of you, thank you, very much.
I've decided to no longer fear my birthday. Bring that shit on, I'm ready. Here's to another year... now, who's bringing the vodka?
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