Birthdays are funny things. You spend a year with them creeping inexorably closer, a few weeks prior to the actual date freaking out about the aging process, and then the actual day is one of intense boredom because it’s your day off and you still haven’t done the housework…
Still, people give you stuff – which is always nice, and they have to be nice to you – which is nicer. You also receive some interesting things in the mail – like a card addressed to Mistress Blues of Enmore [okay, so in reality it had my actual surname, not Blues, on it] and signed Your Lovely Lesbian Lawyer. [Ah, some people just love the nom de plume’s you assign them.] There’s also the dragon from your three-year-old nephew who has a bit of an obsession with dragons and a need for everyone to have a dragon guard in their house. It’s cute and all but his inheritance is totally out the window if it sets fire to anything.
The tradition of early morning birthday texts is also fun. I live and die by text. I’ve broken my heart and had it broken for me by text. It has announced births and deaths. It has lead to crippling debt. It has been the source of a thousand misconceived arguments and still the love affair isn’t over. The simple ones just say ‘Happy Birthday’ a more complex one makes me wonder who was more drunk last night ‘27 today miss thang happy birthday my dear’ – uh huh, but then she did put her name as Moi on the back of an envelope… And then there are the more complex ‘what are you doing, let’s do something tonight’ ones – that’s taken all day, and yes, we’ll be doing something tonight.
I guess the real boredom of the day lies in the fact that I’m not planning a proper celebration for weeks and that there’s something of a malaise that sets in on Mondays whether or not one is at work. And, believe me, I am thanking any and all, actual and fantastic gods that I am not at work today. Nothing is more ghastly than the birthday-at-work with the false cheeriness and the cake and the flowers and maybe some token crap gift which serves to tell you exactly what your workmates think of you.
Damn, it’s just a bloody day. Someone get me a beer – get yourself one too. Let’s do this proper like…
14 comments:
Here's a beer. Cheers to birthdays! They make people get you stuff!
Birthdays are rad!
Happy Birthday lady!
Happy Birthday. On my way to the balcony for a brew and a durrie as we speak.
*Raises a glass in your direction*
Thank you, thank you all.
D'you know, I think I might.
GODDAMN, I THOUGHT IT WAS THE 29TH!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIRDY! BIG, FIREHATTY, SANDWICH-TRAY-Y LOVE.
PS. I overfed the fish on Sunday. Twice.
...
Oop.
LOL on both counts!
Argh. I just checked the calendar and I will, in all likelihood, have to work on my birthday. This has never happened before. If they cake me they die.
Heppy Barthday though, hope it was kickin' rad.
Damn, I meant to leave a birthday themed message yesterday. Instead, allow me to toast you belatedly. Hope you guiltlessly subscribed to capitalistic acquisition and were suitably rewarded! (Hope you got lots of stuff and drank beer.)
Hope it was a cracking good birthday. I could never quite get the hang of mine - until this year I started ignoring it and everything was suddenly lovely and relaxed.
On their birthdays, bloggers must give presents to other bloggers whose names start with T.
It's an old tradition.
W00t. Happy birthday :) Have a good time on Friday night.
Ah, Tony, pity it's three days past my birthday then.
Thank you, Mark, I'm quite sure I shall [bloody pikers..].
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