Birthday Greatest Hits

Presents, Cake, Richard Cranium. 

I have a love-hate relationship with my birthday. It seems that when I try to make plans, they're ruined and I'm left very disappointed. Because of that, I've learned to not bother making plans. This information gets really weird when someone asks what you're doing for your birthday. It sounds sad and pathetic, and sometimes they feel the need to make it better. That just makes me feel awkward...in all truth, I'd kind of rather lay in bed for my birthday, enjoying laziness and receiving birthday greetings on the Facebook. Well that just sounds sadder and patheticker. 

As with most things in life, I didn't just wake up one day and decide to hate my birthday. I've had some really crappy birthdays. So, let's visit them. 

The most recent one (a few years ago) happened when I was dating Redneck. If you read the blog when I had it up before, you know what a gem he was. 
My birthday must have been on a Friday or Saturday; I remember it being on the weekend. He lived a couple of hours away, and all I asked for was for him to come into town and hang out with some of my friends, whom he hadn't met. Well, he started talking about some big surprise and how he'd outdone himself. I got so excited, thinking it was going to be an amazing birthday. The big gift was that he sent me half a dozen roses at work. They were very pretty and it was very sweet, but didn't live up to the hype. Well, alright. 
He then decided he couldn't come into town because the roads weren't great and he had exams the next week. I will admit that I became stubborn, whiny, and childlike at this point. I do somewhat feel that it was deserving though, all I asked was for him to come visit. His "compromise" (which I repeatedly tried to explain isn't how compromise works) was to meet halfway for dinner. So we each drove an hour (each way) for a shitty murder mystery dinner in the basement of a Brann's. Explain to me how the roads were too bad for him to drive the two hours into town, but were okay for him to drive two hours halfway and back? 
Eh, I guess my birthday was that Sunday; I remember my parents taking me to brunch. They're the best and they always make it better. 

Going quite a bit farther back (I don't remember which birthday...I was out of high school though), we meet up with Norm. I saw in a movie once that snooty rich people called the little people Norm (normal) and, since this guy obviously wasn't important enough for me to remember much about him, he's Norm(al). Yup, I'll be the snooty bitch. 
Alright. Norm lived a couple hours away. (Looks like that's a trend...I am so weird!) He was coming to my home for the weekend...except he didn't have a car. So I drove 2 hours on Friday to pick him up and spent the night because he wanted to party. We came back Saturday and I had to work; he slept. (Uh, really. Wtf is wrong with me?) We went to a different city for dinner with one sister, then went to a play that another sister was in. It was Rocky Horror Picture Show. In hindsight, that might not have been the wisest choice. On the other hand...if you can't handle that, I want nothing to do with you. I wash my  hands, and a pox upon your family! 
That all was Saturday night, I had to sing at church on Sunday. But he decided, REALLY decided, that he HAD to be back that night. So he demanded that I drive him back two hours. We got there at 2 in the morning and he proceeded to break up with me. Umm...how did I not see that coming? I asked if I could just stay and sleep for a while; there was no way I was going to be able to make a 2 hour drive back. Luckily, my brother lived there and I was able to find his apartment and he saved me. 

Next we have my 21st birthday. My actual birthday consisted of a lot of shots with some weirdo trying to make out with me after I'd puked. Yuck, guy! Then I had a final exam the next morning. I made it through, but that wasn't fun. 
One of my friends from high school was a girl I spent a lot of time with during that year of college. We used to go dancing at one bar that always had a drawing for a VIP night. I won it right around the time of my 21st. I told her about it kind of laughingly, and said I wasn't going to do it. It was kind of a no-brainer: I've never been super popular, and I wouldn't really know what to do with something like that. She insisted that I was being ridiculous; this was the perfect opportunity for my 21st birthday and it would be a ton of fun. Well, she talked me into it. I figured that I might as well do it...if nothing else, I'd have my friend with me. 
NOPE. She talked me into doing it, I invited a bunch of people...and our football team was in some tournament. My friend's response was that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to go...because apparently I was going to turn 21 again. I'm still waiting for that...
So, it ended up being me and 2 of my sisters. I was completely humiliated and glaringly reminded of how insignificant I am. Ugh, even thinking about it makes my skin crawl. 

Well, when I started this one I intended to just talk about the past. 

I was working on making my birthday treat for work tomorrow (I cooked! It's a big deal!) and I got a text from Lindbergh about his crappy day. He said he narrowly missed going to jail, which I tried to be calm about, but really needed an explanation on. His car basically committed suicide, so he'd borrowed one from his dad. Said borrowed car wasn't "legal." (I'm guessing...hoping?...that it was just plates or something, but I was afraid to ask) The good news is he didn't go to jail and, after paying a lot of money, will be able to fix the problem. But...wow. Then he felt that was a good time to tell me he got me a gift for my birthday. Aaaand...cue the Catholic guilt. 
Alright, I know that's not about me. But, really. Just one more thing to worry about.  

So...those are my birthdays. I already don't want to get out of bed. 
I may be getting older, but I'm not so sure I'm getting wiser.