In honour of the day my mom pooped me out of her vajayjay, I’ve made a list of all the things I should be able to get away with today:
- Eat junk all day and call everyting “Birthday food”.This should serve as an unquestioned explanaition for pigging out. “Oh–my extra large personal pizza is taking up your desk space? It’s my birthday pizza.” Bam.
- Yell, “It’s my birthday, bitches.” on the bus/out your car window and have at least a few of the passengers/random pedestrians sing their best Marilyn Munro happy birthday.
- Starbucks should give away a birthday drink, which naturally should be the most expensive drink on the menu. I don’t want them clapping or anything, that shit’s embarrassing. They should put their efforts into inscribing “happy birthday beautiful” into the whip-cream on my Most Expensive Birthday Drink. In Caramel.
- Be drunk all day. Either because it’s your birthday and you can do whatever you want, or to numb the pain of the fact that your losing the fight against time.
- Posting selfies and deeming every one, “__th birthday selfie.” Justifiable because I won’t be young enough to be self-absorbed for long, and because I’ll have more eye-bags next year.
- Get out of doing anything you don’t want to by shamelessly guilting people. “It’s my birthday. It could be my last. You don’t know.”
- Pull all these Birthday Fast Ones for at least two weeks. That’s how long it usually takes me to stop telling people I’m last year’s age, so my birthday celebration rituals should adjust accordingly. It’s a rough life, ya know?
That’s all I got right now. Suggestions are welcome. Birthday cookies are calling.