And You Smell Like One, Too

I had a birthday on Saturday. It’s the kind of thing I try to avoid, but it tends to roll around once a year anyway, like a gigantic and persistent night soil cart.

You might gather that I hate birthdays. You would be correct. I don’t like having them, and I don’t like celebrating them. It’s not an age related thing, which would be laughable at my age anyway. I’ve had one age-related birthday freakout, and that was when I was going on nineteen, of all things. It was really just that eighteen was a very good year for me and I didn’t want it to end. Then, on my nineteenth birthday, I was involved in a hit and run car accident, so I was RIGHT to dread the damn thing. That philosophy has pretty much stuck with me.

This year’s was pretty good, though. I visited my immediate family, complete with their offspring. My nephew Myles and niece Alexandra were disgustingly cute as always, and Baby Harriet’s present to me was avoiding spitting up breastmilk all over me, although she did start crying when I tried to sing to her, which puts her in a class with all the people who go to Extreme Karaoke.

My net friend Katie has also been in Australia, and hence my absence (also, I am lazy). We hung out and I tried to convince her to play Stupid Texan for me, but she refused to put out. Honestly, what’s the point of having international net friends visit you if they refuse to stand in the middle of the Queen Victoria Market on a busy Sunday afternoon loudly exclaiming “Golly, this here sure is different from how we do it in Houston!”? Some people are no fun. Also on her visit we learned about Ye Olde Worlde pimps at the Old Melbourne Gaol, and photographed ourselves doing rude things in front of Parliament House. Upon seeing Jeff Kennett’s portrait, she correctly identified him as an evil, snake-eyed man, at which I may have emitted a small squeal of delight. Sure, she may not have lived down to my ideas of how an American tourist behaves, but I think I’ll keep her.

I topped the weekend off by having a lovely barbecue which was nice and relaxing and was almost enough to make me decide that celebrating my birthday is actually a pretty fun and nifty thing to do. Almost. See, it was a great barbecue and I had a lot of fun, but I’m not entirely sure I’ve made it clear here just how deep the birthday celebration hatred runs.

4 Responses to “And You Smell Like One, Too”

  1. kathryn Says:

    I’m the opposite – I totally love birthdays. Glad to hear you had a great(ish) time anyway.

    I’ve sent you a couple of emails lately? Did you receive them? Don’t wanna hound you if you’ve been too busy to answer, just worried they have got caught up in a spam filter somewhere or something.

    Btw Extreme Karaoke sounds like my kind of thing.

  2. Sussy Says:

    Heh, yeah, I could see why birthdays aren’t much fun – especially since mine is rather painful at the moment.

    😉 Belated birthday gratz.

  3. Chris Says:

    Ahhh, quit yer whinin’, girly. There are a few of us who’re glad you wuz born and will celebrate it with or without ya, dammit.

    By the way, where wuz the cake?????? We didn’t sing! You’re gonna have to do it all over again – properly, this time. Friggin amateurs. xx

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