i’ll cry if i want to

Birthdays.  Let’s discuss them.

We all have them.  Today it’s yours along with a bunch of other people you don’t know.  19 million people, to be exact, unless you’re a leap year kid.  Tomorrow it’ll be another handful of people and the beat goes on.  Within your close circle of friends and family, it can and should be a national holiday, but remember to the rest of the world it’s just another Tuesday.

Here is a list of people who do not care about your birthday in no particular order:  Your server (although they will pretend to care because they need to pay their electric bill), the mailman, your neighbor, your uber driver, the barista making your venti mocha lotta ya ya, your flight attendant, the IRS, the pastry chef who is decorating a plate with your name in chocolate writing, the DMV, and basically anyone you wouldn’t feel comfortable calling if you were crying.

Once upon a time Mindy Kaling, whose real name is Vera Mindy Chokalingam #fact, refused to allow her employees to celebrate birthdays during the workday.  Social media went crazy calling her everything from a heartless beast to a common dictator.  After careful consideration, I came to a certain understanding of her point of view. She had 200 employees at the time.  Do the math.  You can’t run a successful business if you’re too busy celebrating birthdays on the daily.  She’s a boss.  She has priorities.  You blowing out a candle in front of your co-workers isn’t one of them.  It may seem a bit Scrooge-ey but the woman has a point.  Just do what we did in Kindergarten and hand everyone a cupcake during lunchtime.  Only difference now is cardio isn’t nearly as mindless or fun.  What I wouldn’t give for the energy of a 5 year old.

And then it made me wonder if the White House celebrates staff birthdays and how much of my tax dollars have been spent on tiny frosted cakes.  Food for thought, literally.  And that’s how you properly use the word literally which seems to be a very confusing concept for the majority of the social media community…and the world as a whole.

Speaking of cakes. What the f%#?!* If you have never invested any time or energy on custom cakes, DON’T.  I’m not talking little Kroger situations you can just ice a phrase on.  I’m talking the legit fondant cakes that look like high heels or dolphins or cigarettes or whatever it is you’re into these days.  Prices are out of control.  My friends got me a fancy cake for my 30th birthday and when I realized how much it was, I blacked out.  I have debt to pay off, I could own the classic Adidas sandal in every color, I could get my teeth whitened, hell, I could eat a cupcake a day M-F for a year at that price.  I get that it’s a business and that it is a time consuming art that requires a serious amount of talent, but it’s also cake.

I just want to point out that someone used their hard working $ for the cakes you see above.  That’s well over $1,000 in cakes.  Or maybe I’m just jealous that someone has the kind of $ to be an idiot when it comes to monetary decisions.

And before anyone who follows me on Instagram with an excellent memory thinks ‘wait, didn’t you…?’ The answer is yes, I bought my boyfriend a custom cake for his birthday last year.  But it’s because I know people and got a very generous friends & family discount which, for cake, I still found a bit steep.  I’ll take a $3.75 cupcake, thanks.

I have and will never like the birthday song. It’s beyond weird.  It’s a bunch of people singing at you in celebration of your emergence from a woman’s nether-regions.  They are literally staring at you while you just stand or sit there wondering what to do with your hands, avoiding eye contact at all costs, contemplating the past 365 days and reminding yourself that you still haven’t gone on your Mediterranean dream vacation, and wishing the song was 16 words shorter..and don’t you dare bring the encore version anywhere near me.  I don’t need a song or a piece of cake. If anyone should be sung to on my birthday, it should be my mother for carrying me around for 9 months and 2 weeks and providing my first rent-free home.

And this isn’t some new, I’m over the age of 25 and pretending it’s not happening thing.  I used to hide under the table with a napkin over my head when I was younger until it was all over.  It was traumatic.  I’d rather huddle up with my closest, all hands in, and yell ‘let’s make it a great year!’ on three.

And those are my thoughts on birthdays.  Sarcasm is back at full force and I feel pretty good about it.  Happy Birthday ya filthy animals!! Xx