Yo, birthdays are for pussies!

Today is my birthday.

The problem is I'm not particularly excited about it. It's not the 'getting older' part. I think I'm just not that into celebrating things that I clearly had no control over. Like Arbor Day or the Bank Holiday in Ireland. Sure, it's great to get some gifts or have everyone in your office sign the same card. (Can we talk about this for a second...the card is the cheapest form of gift you can give a person. How messed up are you that you will only give a person a card if someone else buys it and 25 other people sign it as well?? I'm not saying I don't appreciate the gesture, but seriously folks. It costs 99 cents to buy a card. If you're going to do it, just sign it "We're cheap bastards." Or give me the dollar, I'll invest it for you.)

And don't even get me started on the song.

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Gayle
Happy Birthday to you

Are you kidding me? Who wrote this??? Some real genius lyricist I guess. And I HATE it when someone in the group tries to harmonize. Listen, unless you have hired the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to sarenade me, then don't do that minor lift at the end that makes my teeth rattle every time I hear it. I'll blow out the candles and "make a wish". I'm a year older. I get it. Just please stop singing already.

So this year, I've decided to take after my grandmother and never talk about my age ever again. See how long I can be mistaken for a 28 year old and how far I can go before it's really inappropriate for me to still wear knee-high leather boots with stilletto heels.

Not that my grandmother wears knee-high leather boots. She's more into halter tops and eyebrow piercings. Ewww. That's sick. I can't believe I said eyebrow piercings.