Yesterday was my birthday. Most people don’t think about the break down of birthday but it was the day you were birthed. So for some crazy reason, society decided it was important to keep track of how old you are and to celebrate the day you exit your mothers vagina. Wonderful.
It’s been 31 times that I’ve had a birthday and I couldn’t care less. I feel no need to celebrate and it feels like any other day. I even prefer not to be the center of attention. It’s nice for people to come out of the woodwork and wish happy birthday through Facebook but it doesn’t mean much. I’ll give an example, my friend Adam didn’t even know it was my birthday but he’s a better friend than 99% of the people who did wish me a happy birthday. I missed his birthday by 2 days last year. I missed Sam’s 2 years before that. I’m not advocating missing birthdays but it’s not that big of a deal compared to when you were 12 and kids were dropping quarters at Challenges.
I put a picture of Katy Perry and her huge boobs because this is my blog.
Leave a Reply