Birthdays
Only the human race could
actually use the excuse of being one step closer to death as an opportunity to
receive presents. ‘I am greedy therefore I am human’.
To steal a thought from Jane
Austen: it is a truth universally acknowledged that any time of holiday
celebration is a time of reflecting on your life and realising what a complete
twating failure you are. The only thing is who chooses to express it. Let’s
face it at one point we have all been the crying mess on the floor at the New
Year’s party wondering where all the drink has gone then subsequently trying to
suck the remains of sambuca out our clothes.
This year I chose quiet
reflection; reaching the age of 24 passed me by in a state of tired grimness.
In the run up to 24 I was bombarded with talk of how young I was and that 25 is
the age of ‘adult’ making me a child. Then I was reminded of my age by a huge
bill, a hyper-ventilation inducing interview and the question piped by the
young face of staff that made me want to cry; ‘who is Fleetwood Mac?’ queue a
state of confusion, DVDs, beer and ice cream and the birthday is over.
It appears that the age of the
birthday dictates its fullness. Bring back the days of tea parties where
self-loathing only ever reaches the dizzy heights of ‘I eat my bogies’.
The 18th birthday
passed with shouting at my brother and throwing up my 24 tequila slammers on my
boyfriend’s jeans. It was his fault, he told me to look at him! If we all had
babies on the same day then 18 years later vomit would fill Britain drowning
the Isle of Wight and we wouldn't give a shit about climate change any more
Chunderdome!. That’s all there is to turning 18- chunder. And then 3 years
later you can take it global.
I also came to the realisation
this year that my parents have conned all my birthdays into a state of
unimportance. ‘We don’t do birthdays but we do big Christmases’, a statement of
truth, I am Christmas’ best friend. However as I compare to others and see the
same state of Christmas with the added bonus of getting birthday presents, my
parents laziness becomes apparent. I believe their conning comes from a caring
of their bank accounts and I see here they are not to be mocked but praised.
Why buy your children presents every year when eventually you can buy yourself
a Ferrari and avoid the recession. It’s like smokers: if you put all the money
you spend on cigarettes in a savings account then eventually you will have
enough money to buy a new set of lungs on the black market. Then feel free to
smoke until transplant is required.
Birthdays aren't just a state of
mourning for those reaching their death but also those that have to pay for it.
And I don’t know if you realise this but birthdays happen every year!! This
means you have to something new and original for each person every year. Not
all of us possess this talent which is why I am the proud owner of 3 sets of
triominoes from my dear uncle. Faking the smile is the hardest part!
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