So today is my birthday. As I sit here awaiting the 3:00pm NASCAR race, I consider a few things about birthdays. This year, my birthday isn't as festive and jovial as in past years. Unemployment has worn very thin on me, and in turn, on my pockets. If it weren't for a supportive family with a shred of pity, I would likely be sitting in a box on the street, begging for pocket change. Anyways, 37 years ago, my shiny white ass was brought into this world, and it's never been the same since!
The worst day to have a birthday on has to be a Sunday. You can't party on Sunday night, and it seems premature to do it on the preceding Saturday. I'm not one for all of the glory and shennanigans that normally take place on a birthday, although last year I ended up being carried out of the club of my choosing, as everyone and their dog bought the birthday boy a drink! Next year, I look for a Monday birthday. Yay. How fun. Monday sucks anyways, and to have a birthday on a Monday sucks really bad. I still have 3 years before the big four-oh, but it's approaching rapidly. My son graduates high school when I'm 41, and I truly believe that will be MUCH more traumatic than any 40th birthday could ever be. Ugh.
Oh, well, I guess I should quit bitching about getting older. I only have two choices--get busy living, or get busy dying. I sure as hell ain't gonna do the latter, so I guess I should get busy living. Until next time...
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