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March 12, 2002 - 7:19 a.m.
You're
going to have your
birthday cake - -
AND like it!
I
never thought I
would be one of
those people who
would stop counting
my age. Or, who
wouldn't remind
people a month in
advance they had
better start
preparing for the
greatest event in
their lives: my
birthday! I always
had a "birthday
week" that
involved one entire
week of indulgences,
decadences and greed
without guilt. This
year, I am
depressed, poor with
a bleak outlook on
my future. I was People
insist on
celebrating your
birthday on the date
you, your mother or
the doctors, had
decided to rip you
from the womb.
Secrets are being
told, plans made,
gifts have been
bought. Just like
Xmas in Who-Ville,
you can't stop your
birthday from
coming. So, while
everyone's gathered
around the tree
happily singing
nonsensical songs,
I'm trying to climb
up to the Grinch's
lair and ask him if
I can sit quietly
outside his door
until it is all
over. But, now that
the Grinch has
gotten into the
whole
party-atmosphere
thing, I don't have
anywhere to go. It's
just like those
photos your parents
have of you when you
were 1 and they
shoved cake in your
face. The party is
for the adults - not
the kid. All of the
relatives are
smiling as they put
that stupid dunce
cap on your head
with the elastic
that pinches your
skin that makes you
cry. "Oh, no!
She's crying! Give
her more cake!"
Actually,
the birthday would
be better if I was
1-years-old. At
least I wouldn't
know what was going
on. I could have a
big sugary cake to
mash my hands into.
Hey! That's what I
need. So,
happy fucking
birthday to me. I'm
going out to buy a
cake.
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considering
postponing my
birthday until my
anti-depressants
kick in and I could
enjoy it more. NO
WAY!
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