My family doesn't celebrate birthdays, and by celebrate, I mean nobody goes through the time and effort to set up a little shindig for our next step towards decay and eventual death. My 22nd was the first time that I actually celebrated a birthday and I basically did everything myself: buying the drinks, getting the food, and setting up the space. I did get some help courtesy of D and C, but I directed most of it. Even though birthdays are usually events where the birthee is supposed to do nothing save enjoy his time, there's something to be said about taking control of your own celebration. Never let it be said that I wasn't generous, accommodating, and way too mindful of others on a day when the only person I'm supposed to give a shit about is myself.
I'm reversing the trend. The birthday boy does something nice for everybody instead.
Happy 22nd you bastard!
