Am I gonna party? Why not it’s my birthday. Sip Baccardi? Feels unlikely, but it is my birthday. Do I give a F#$%? Damn right! It’s my birthday.Of all of the many holidays that are celebrated throughout the year, I would have to call my birthday my favorite. I don’t have to buy other people stuff. I don’t have to congratulate other people. I don’t have to care about other people. It’s my day dammit! Everyone is always nice to me on my birthday. I get a cake on my birthday. I eat like a king on my birthday. I get presents on my birthday. People call me just to congratulate me on being born when in fact my Mom did a majority of the work… kind of anyways, I was born C-Section. She did carry me for the full nine months and I believe she was in labor for quite a while before they cut her up. That counts in my books.

On a funny note, the first time my Mom saw me after I was born she was right wacked out on pain killers and she said to my Dad “he’s got such beautiful curly hair”. I was completely bald. Heh. My Dad still laughs when he tells that story. I suppose you would really have to know my Mom to understand why her being stoned would be so hilarious.

Five reasons that this birthday is forcing me to believe that I’m growing up despite my best interests:

1. I’m at work.
2. I didn’t even consider calling in ’sick’.
3. Hair in new places…. the first time I experienced new hair growth it was cool. Now it’s on my shoulders. This is decidedly uncool.
4. I’m married and about to buy my first house.
5. This is the last year that one pack of candles will suffice. There are only 24 to a pack, which means (gasp) next year I will require two packs.

This year for our birthdays, my wife and I agreed to buy each other stuff we need for the new house. This way, we both can get presents. I’ve asked for a BBQ. I have a really crappy one now, and frankly, I wouldn’t dare to disgrace my new patio with it. I told my parents I want a washing machine. They agreed. I asked my brother if he would detail and undercoat my car. He agreed.

While extremely generous, this marks the first birthday, in my entire history of birthdays, where all of my big presents are completely practical. I believe this counts as #6.

I honestly can not complain. Grown up birthdays are far better than their alternative. Besides, I really want a new BBQ, one of the most exciting features of our new home is that I won’t have to pay for laundry, and my brother does an amazing job detailing cars and come Monday it will look just like it did the day I drove it off the lot (hopefully it won’t snow a foot this time).

At least I’m still really really good looking. Only when that is gone will I begin to complain about my birthday. (luckily as an early birthday present to myself I started hitting the gym again. Hooray for no man boobies!)