Plus 24 more candles equals…? Anyone? Buehller?? Yes, lordy lordy look who turned 40!
For kind of a ‘big number’ birthday, it was a real non-event and basically forgotten/overlooked by nearly everyone. So I think I’m going to use my little blog here to throw my very own pity party.
At least this way I actually get a party.
I mean, I really didn’t get jack shit yesterday. I got two cards and a handful of “happy birthdays”. That’s it. Not even any freeloader e-cards. After 14,610 days on this planet, it was treated basically the same as day 14,609.
For those that did remember and wished me a happy birthday, thank you so much! The well-wishing truly did mean a lot to me, as I was anticipating that everyone was just going to space off my special day.
But if I’m being totally honest (and it’s my pity party so I get to be) I guess I was expecting more.
It’s not like I wanted a surprise birthday breakfast and a huge party with tons of friends, a pink Trans Am in the driveway with a ribbon around it, and a really hot guy like you meet in France and you do it on a cloud without getting pregnant or herpes.
I would even have gladly accepted the consolation prize of being felt up by a grandparent and having a weird chinese guy named after a duck’s dork call me “hot stuff”.
Having my 40th birthday not forgotten would also have been kinda nice.
Unfortunately my day started with everyone at work blowing it off.
Why should I care about work, you say? Well, because I work in a family owned company who puts out monthly birthday lists, and birthday celebrants at the very least get a bagel breakfast (for you and all the office). Heck, I even got bagels on my birthday SIX DAYS after I hired in!
And for bigger birthdays, they’ll even sneak in and decorate your cube with banners and shit.
I got nothing this year. Not even a ‘happy birthday’.
And it’s not like they’ve stopped doing this shit. We just had bagels last week for another birthday. And earlier this year one of the accountants turned 40. When she arrived, they had a skeleton sitting in her chair with a wig on it.
My mother, of course, remembered my birthday. She sent me a nice present of chocolates and gift cards, and actually had flowers delivered to work for me. Granted the chocolates were all broken and melted together when I got them, but it’s the thought that counts.
I must admit the flowers from mom were an unexpected bright spot in my day. You see, I’d never received flowers before. From anyone. For anything.
Of course my father forgot my birthday entirely. But to be fair, he’s dealing with the recent passing of my uncle, so it’s sort of understandable. But, noone else in my family remembered either.
I chalk up some of my misery to the day of the week.
Having a birthday on a Wednesday really sucks as well. You can’t really go out and get blottoed because you still have to slog through two more days. And taking the day off and then having to come back in for the rest of the week would just make the sucking that much more vivid.
What did I want? Well, I suppose I wanted friends to drag my lousy ass out for dinner or miniature golf or to Dave and Busters. Something. Sure they would have had to force me to go because I was having a fairly miserable day, but at least then I would have known people cared enough to try to make it somewhat memorable for me.
As it was, I had a bagel sandwich and watched HGTV until Kyle brought over some chocolate mousse and we played some Wii.
Sounds major, right?
*** update: To be fair, Kyle DID try to get me out for dinner. But I was very cranky, and didn’t make it very easy. I wanted all that planned for me and to just be taken out. Too bad he didn’t know that at the time***
I remember when each of my parents turned 40. They not only got office parties, but they also had the traditional “over the hill” parties replete with funny gifts and tombstones, black streamers, black balloons and black cake. All the cliche.
To be clear, I was definitely NOT expecting this level of fete.
But, as I said before, I was stupidly hoping for more than I got.
And honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, I can count the number of friends I have here in Minnesota on one dick. So it’s not like there was an abundance of folks willing to plan something on my behalf.
I suppose I could have foisted my birthday on the small group of acquaintances I have. Done the whole “It’s three weeks until my birthday… it’s two weeks until my birthday… my birthday is next week… guess who turns 40 tomorrow” thing. But that really isn’t my style.
I feel that if you have to constantly poke and prod people into remembering your birthday, then any sort of recognition on the day feels rather forced. And therefore rather disingenuous.
Here’s what I really wanted for my birthday:
Yes, Jake Ryan would have been a nice birthday treat. Or really even just a regular guy who thought enough of me to make me a cake and have me make a wish while we sat on a glass dining room table.
Although given my luck, the table would’ve shattered under the weight and I’d have ended up “end up ” in the emergency room with shards of glass in my backside.
So, I’m filing this birthday away in the “suck bin”– along with my other craptacular milestone birthdays, namely my 18th and 21st.
Awww, party’s over.