In just about three hours from now I should be getting my annual birthday call from my mom. Instead of saying happy birthday Freaky she says sings happy birthday to herself. Like she did something other than squeezing an 8 lbs., 14 oz. baby boy out of her nether regions. I asked her yesterday why she couldn’t have eaten a little more before giving birth to me so I could’ve come into the world at 9 lbs. Her reply was, “If you were nine pounds you’d still be in me.
I like to tell her that in some countries women fight on the front line, have their babies, and go back out in the field to wage war on the infidel devils. At this point she begins looking for shoes to throw at me. Lucky for me she throws like girl. Okay, giving birth to yours truly is probably something she’s allowed to give herself props on. Thank you mommy. Oh I’m sorry about the whole ripping thing when I came out and the subsequent stitches you got as a parting gift. I guess even as a baby I had a big head and broad shoulders. Look at it the positives. I stretched you out more than enough for you to easily have my little fur ball of a sister and if I ever get a chick pregnant you can have fun scaring her by speculating how big my son or daughter’s head will be and of the impending devastation it will unleash upon her pussy. The look of terror on their faces is priceless. What? You get your jollies your way and I’ll get my jollies mine.
I’m not quite hating my birthday this year as much as I did last year and in previous years. I still think it sucks enough to be worthy of the moniker of “Suck Day” but maybe in my old age I’m coming to terms with the fact that my birthday will always disappoint and fail to live up to my hopes and dreams on some level. I tend to get particularly reflective on my birthday and this time of year in general. I always think about what I don’t have. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this (if so then I’m sure I haven’t shared it with many people) but I’ve always wanted to have a huge birthday bash with tons of friends and hot chicks, with the hottest being my arm piece for the night. Of course that’s never going to happen. I can count the number of friends I have on one hand and none of them are really partyers either. I also don’t dance, hate crowds, and normally don’t really care for loud music. I can’t even tell you why I want it. For all I know it may be because I’ve never had one and would absolutely hate the experience if it actually happened. I try not to question the more hedonistic parts of my personality at times. I am aware that I always want more now and I have a tendency to want what I can’t have. Sure it’s probably not the best way or thing to think about on my birthday but truth be told that’s what the voices in my head think about and I own it.
This week has absolutely sucked! I totally understand why some people take a few semi-automatic firearms go to campus and kill their classmates. The only thing even remotely getting me through it is the fact that in a little over 12 hours I’ll be on a flight heading to Parts Unknown to chill with Val. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to come back. If not for that I’m sure I’d be in my room with the lights and my ringers turned off contemplating how craptastically awful my life is and thinking about or doing something incredibly self destructive. Lucky for me I have other plans this year. Hopefully, I can push all the bullshit and bad thoughts to the back of my mind and be carefree and footloose this weekend. I think a change of scenery and lots of sex should do wonders for my mental health.
Last year my birthday wish came true. I wonder if and what I’ll wish for this year? Well, that’s about it. Happy birthday to my favorite sharers of my birthday, Sheree and Anne Rice!