It was my birthday almost two months ago. Hmm...somehow I think the Beatles had it right the other way. Oh well. Let me first say happy birthday to Jane and Nick (who's birthday was yesterday - Hey! Why don't you celebrate by posting something? *Sorry* Does that violate some birthday rule about harassing the person?) On to the topic!
All of my memorable birthdays are the horrible ones. I mean, yes, I've had fun birthdays, but the ones that stick out in my mind are the ones that were complete crap. Like my 13th birthday. My mother was a cook at a camp in the mountains in VA, so my brother and I had to spend the summer at the camp. Don't get me wrong - that summer was a blast, but my birthday sucked. My mom had told me there was some carnival in the next town, so that night we went, and found no carnival, and eventually saw a sign that said it was the next weekend. (Oh - important detail - my mother invited along the head chef who was a complete douche, and that night was no exception - I cant think of any specific grievance, but rather general rudeness). So she suggested bowling - closed, and then finally a movie. What pinnacle of cinematic history did we see, you ask? Angels in the Outfield, and we were about 20/30 minutes late. (This was before the 1/2 hr of previews and commercials we have now). Even back then I didn't want to see the movie. When it was done my mother dropped Jerry off at his house, and he stormed in before she got a chance to get out my cake. So, we went back to camp, and I left the cake out on the counter untouched. The next day, someone had picked off all the sugar lettering.
The other worst birthday also took place at camp. (Hmmm...there seems to be a pattern. *Note to self: avoid any camps around August from now on*) I've already talked about it on this blog - here. In case you don't want to follow my lovely little link, let me sum it up. I was at camp, the day of my birthday I laid in bed most of the day with horrible stomach pains that I toughed out 3 days before I was back home, and had to have my gall bladder removed. The worst part was that my grandma cooked my favorite meal and bought cheesecake for my birthday and I couldn't eat it cause I felt like shit.
This year was pretty sub par too, but that's because the people I chose to go bowling with (cast mates of Midsummer) have not sense of time or the decency to call when they're going to be ridiculously late. Seriously? Two of them - Danielle and Mandi - didn't show up 'til 10 and we were to meet at 7:30 - needless to say we were already done bowling).
Jane and Nick I hope you had better birthdays than I just described.
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2 comments:
I'm sorry you have had so many sucky birthdays. I think I was in the hospital for one of mine, too, but I don't remember which. But I still have my gallbladder...nana-nana-boo-boo!
I did, thank you. I just wanted to add my sucky birthday story:
When I turned 25, it was my first birthday in San Diego. I hadn't even been there for a full year, so I didn't really know anyone well, and I didn't have any plans. Not that it would have mattered, because halfway through my work day (yep, had to work on my birthday) I was struck down by an incredibly severe migraine. Let's just say that living under the flight line for Lindbergh Field only intensified the joy of that birthday.
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