Happy Birthday Sunny

I’ve written, in the recent past, about the perils and pitfalls of having your Birthday too close to Christmas. Basically, cheap-assed relatives doing the “I’ll just get you one big present.” Trick, which roughly translates as: “There is no fucking way I’m shelling out for a Birthday present so soon after Christmas, so I’ll create the illusion that I’m spending more on you for Christmas, so I can stiff you out of your Birthday Present.”

However, I’ve recently discovered something that is much, MUCH worse:

Having your birthday little over a month before your wife’s.

You see, I’m a horrible, horrible person to be around on my Birthday. It’s like at midnight I exchange minds with God for 24 hours:

“Lo, it iseth my Birthday! I Command that you obey me! Do things for me, or thou shalt call down upon thyself my terrible Wrath! I shall not be denied! Bring me Coffee! Go forth and cook me steak! Rubeth my back, or thou shalt regret it!”

In other words, I guilt trip everyone around me into waiting on me hand and foot. If I want coffee, I ask someone to make me some ‘Birthday Coffee’. I don’t want a backrub, I want a ‘Birthday Backrub’.

It’s passive-aggressiveness at its finest. You don’t need to cajole or be mean about it. You just turn to your significant other and say:

“My feet hurt. Would you give me a Birthday Foot Rub? Oh, wait. Would you be really, really nice and make me some Birthday Coffee and get me some Birthday Ice-Cream first?”

Basically, if you add the prefix ‘Birthday’ to anything you want, anyone who professes to love you is obliged, nay, COMPELLED to obey you.

This is all just a flowery way of saying that I turn into a complete asshole for 24 hours every birthday and make people do shit for me.

So why is it a bad thing that my Wife’s birthday is today, which just happens to be one month, two days after mine?

Well, basically she hasn’t had 6 months to forget what a pain in the ass I was.

This boils down to one word:

Payback.

Now, I could actually be really mean and tell her to sod off, but this has one major drawback. Refusal to obey a Birthday Command brings the whole system crashing down around my ears, and I don’t get my ’24 Hour Asshole License’ next year.

Yes, it might be pure evil, but it’s pure evil on the Honor System.

Anyway, I have to go. The missus has just asked how long I was going to be on the computer. Translation: “Get off the computer.”

‘Birthday-Favor’ Imminent.



How long is it to my Birthday again?

That’s right…a whole frickin’ year.