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It's my birthday, bitches.

I honestly don't celebrate. Birthdays stopped being a big deal not long after I was born, actually. My sister's two years younger and her birthday is 3 days after mine. She always made a big deal of her birthday and I took the opposite approach. I'm sure Freud has a lot to say about middle child/baby of the family dynamics. Me being the middle child, her being the baby of the family, that is.

At any rate, the last time I had a "real" birthday party was when I lived back home and after complaining that I stopped getting birthday parties because of my sister's and how I was ripped off mickey mouse cakes, mickey mouse hats, and pin the tail on the donkey, my sister threw a surprise birthday party with my closest friends and family with everything I complained about.

I suppose I could go out drinking and throw a party myself but honestly everyone I would want there lives far away, either in Alberta, Kelowna, Toronto, northern BC, etc., so my heart just isn't into it.

I suppose I could sit at home all day and question the direction of my life and how many years I've wasted on x, y, z but what's the fun in that?

Shopping with the cash that was sent to me may be an option but I really don't want to take my car out and risk being hit by some idiot with summer tires on their care talking on their cellphone.

I do keep one birthday tradition. I check what Eugenia has to say is in store for me. So far, for the last 3 years, she's been full of shit.

For my birthday, go do something nice. Buy a chicken for a family in a foreign country. Or a donkey. Shovel your neighbour's driveway. Give up your seat on a bus. Or buy me Oilers tickets. Be good to others in this crappy "me" society we've cloaked ourselves in.


About me

  • Grace
  • British Columbia, Canada
  • jealous, insecure,narcissistic, paranoid, and delusional
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Grace 2006
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