IT’S MA BIRTHDAY, BITCHES!!!!
Happy Birthday to MEEEE . . .
Happy Birthday to MEEEE . . .
Happy Birthday dear Misty . . .
Happy Birthday to MEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Hey there. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but today is my birthday. Pretty sure I haven’t brought this up previously. Just thought you might like to know.
Now, I’m not sure how your birthdays usually go down, but I have had some pretty crappy birthdays. In fact, some so bad that I really don’t look forward to my birthday any more. Instead, I always anticipate, with great trepidation, what type of ridiculousness will occur each year.
I am so hoping that I will skip whatever fate has scheduled for me this year. This past year has been a rough one and I think I’m done with all that, thank you very much! Move along, karma. I’m done being your bitch.
Now, I can hear you out there. I hear you thinking, “Oh please, don’t be so damn dramatic. Everybody’s birthday sort of sucks. Nobody likes getting older. Nobody likes birthdays.” Well, lest you think I’m just making up this shit, I present to you the below examples of Misty’s tragic birthdays, a journey through the years. Buckle in folks. This ain’t pretty . . .
On my sixteenth birthday, I was your typical mouthy, disrespectful handful of teenaged girl. My poor parents. But on the evening of my birthday, I was standing at the stove, cooking up something for my dinner and talking back to my mom (natch). Well, apparently I mouthed off one too many times and my mom had enough of my attitude. I don’t remember what I said, but something sparked her to turn to violence. She backhanded me across the face. Wearing about 12 big sharp rings. It hurt like a bitch. It completely shocked me. And it wasn’t exactly what I expected to get as my birthday present from my mom.
MORAL: If you are gonna be a little bitch on your birthday, make sure your mom has taken off her jewelry for the night.
SIXTEEN – PARTY EDITION:
I do not like surprises. That is not to say that I need to know everything that ever happens at all times, nor do I think a lovely surprise gift is a bad thing. But, when it comes to parties, do not ever throw me a surprise party. Ever. I’m pretty sure that my abhorrence of surprise parties stemmed from my sixteenth birthday party. It was a surprise party thrown by my mom. It was not a good idea. I walked into my house, about a week prior to my actual birthday, dressed all sloppily from running errands, and was surprised to find a bunch of people I went to high school with, standing in my kitchen. The real surprise was the fact that mostly, these were not my friends. See, I was a pretty big dork in high school and my mom actually let my “best friend,” who was very popular, invite everyone. So, she picked people she thought I was friends with and people she was friends with. Anyway, one of my biggest memories from that night was sitting on my steps crying and later cringing when my mom tried to get these people who were barely tolerating being there to play “party games.” (In case you were wondering, I also loathe any type of party game). It was a rough night. Not a fond memory.
MORAL: Don’t throw me any fucking surprise parties!
I was in college and dating a guy that I had a very on again, off again relationship with. We pretty much hated each other because we both thought we were better than the other. I was correct. Anyway, the weekend before my birthday, he decided to go home for the weekend instead of spending time with me, which totally pissed me off. Not my proudest moment, but in my anger and in his absence, I hooked up with a guy, who unfortunately gave me a hickey on my neck. So, when the boyfriend came back, on the evening before my birthday, we were hanging out in my room, watching a movie. I was wearing a turtleneck (as you do when you are trying to hide a hickey). Then, right around midnight, at the very beginning of my birthday, he saw the hickey. And stormed out of my room. So at the very start of my birthday, my boyfriend broke up with me. (I know what you’re probably thinking: I cheated on him, I deserved it. Totally fair. But still . . . being broken up with on your birthday is pretty rough. And to be even more fair, he had cheated on me a bunch of times prior to that. Hence the on/off again part).
MORAL: Obviously don’t cheat on your boyfriend. Even if he is an asshole. Either that or wear a taller turtleneck.
I was newly dating my now-hubs. We went away to Orlando for my birthday on our first ever trip together. On the evening of my birthday, I had a bit too much to drink. So, at the end of the night, I started getting emotional because I was all drunky. I was crying and telling this new boyfriend of mine who had very sweetly taken me away on a trip for my birthday and just given me a beautiful ruby and diamond bracelet (can you say keeper?), that I was damaged goods and he really shouldn’t be with me. Granted, I was drunk, but I was also being honest. I had super low self-esteem and my previous experience with boyfriends consisted of the extravagance of a trip to Taco Bell and splurging on a chalupa, so this was a bit out of my comfort zone. It scared me, to be honest. Luckily, he just laughed at my drunk ass and eventually married me. I tell him all the time that I gave him fair warning and that he had his chance to run at that point. Silly boy.
MORAL: The man shoulda listened when he had the chance.
After being married for a mere 4 months, my new husband was called up to go overseas for the entirety of February, missing both Valentine’s Day (not a big deal) and my birthday (more of an issue). Add that to the fact that this was the year that we had a massive snow storm and I was snowed in my house for a full week all by myself about a week before my birthday. By the time my lonely birthday rolled around, I was pretty much stir crazy from the white out, so yeah, that was not a fun one.
MORAL: Live somewhere warmer.
My family and I were staying with my parents in Florida. Early on the morning of my birthday we were awoken by a phone call. My father-in-law was calling my husband. He was staying at home to take care of the house and our dogs. He was calling to report that one of our dogs had passed away. She was an older dog and had been ailing for a while, but had recently seemed to be better. Two days after we left for vacation, she fell asleep and never woke up. It was extremely sad and cast a pall upon the rest of the day. Hell, the rest of the week, month and year to be honest. Although I tried to rally for my kids because we did not want to tell them until the vacation was over, but I just couldn’t lift the sadness from my heart. It was a very bad birthday.
MORAL: Yeah, I got nothing for this one . . .
EVERY BIRTHDAY FOR THE PAST TEN YEARS:
As I have mentioned before, I always give a birthday card to everyone in my office (along with the stupid party planning I do for all the other office events). I buy a card, I pass around the card for everyone in the office to sign, and I make sure the person gets their card on or around their birthday. It is just something I do. It’s not a big deal, but I think it is a thoughtful gesture from people that work with you and see you more than your family a lot of the time. Now, you would think that people would be grateful for this gesture. That maybe just one person in the office would think to return the favor to the person who does this all year long for everyone else’s birthday in the entire office, right? You would be seriously wrong. Except for last year when I practically begged/threatened my two friends/colleagues to get me a mother loving card for my damn birthday (and they did) I have never gotten a card at work. And those two friends? Quit last year to be stay-at-home moms. Yeah, I’m not holding out much hope for this year. We shall see.
MORAL: Get a new freaking job!!
Ok, enough bitching about my sucktastic birthdays of yore. On to the celebrating . . .
So . . . today is my birthday. I am currently in Atlantic City. Hopefully, nothing tragic will occur today. I will just have some fun away with the hubs, drive home and see my kids, probably get some chinese food for dinner, maybe have a cake. That’s really all I ask. Can you work with me on this one, karma? How ’bout taking just one day off from being a bitch, k? I’ll give you some cake. Do we have a deal? Awesome.