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Birthdays are the only time of the year when people expect you to have your life together. "So, what are your plans for the next year?" I don't know, survive? It's like my life needs a New Year's resolution, but instead of January 1st, it's the day I was born. And let's not forget the pressure to throw a great birthday party. I tried organizing a surprise party once, but no one showed up. The real surprise was that I overestimated the popularity of my own birthday.
In the end, birthdays are a mixed bag of joy, confusion, and a dash of existential crisis. But hey, at least we get cake, right?
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Birthday cards are a whole other level of confusing. I got a card once with a cat on the front that said, "You're not getting older, you're just getting more cattitude." I didn't know if I should be flattered or offended. Is this feline comparing me to a grumpy old man? And then there's the awkward moment when you receive a card from someone you barely know. It's like, "Thanks for the well wishes, but who are you, and how did you get my address?" It's a birthday mystery.
I got a recycled card once with someone else's name crossed out. Talk about feeling special. "Happy birthday, uh, Rachel? Close enough.
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You ever notice how birthdays are like a surprise party for your age? "Guess what? You're another year older, and here's a cake to soften the blow!" I mean, who came up with that idea? It's like congratulating yourself for finishing a book you never wanted to read in the first place. And then there's the pressure of giving the perfect gift. I tried giving my friend a gift card once, and he looked at me like I just handed him a riddle. "Happy birthday, figure out what you want, and also, here's a deadline."
I once got a singing telegram for my birthday. It was a nice sentiment, but I didn't know if I was supposed to tip the singer or call security. I mean, who wants a random person singing "Happy Birthday" at their doorstep? It's like a musical invasion.
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Let's talk about birthday cakes. Why is it that the older you get, the smaller the cake becomes? I mean, when you're a kid, your cake is like the size of a small car, and as an adult, it's a cupcake. It's like, "Congratulations on surviving another year; here's your portion-controlled celebration." And don't get me started on those trick candles. You blow them out, and they magically relight. It's like a game of birthday whack-a-mole. "Oh, you thought you were done making wishes? Nice try, buddy."
I asked for a personalized cake once, and they wrote my age in Roman numerals. I had to Google how old I was. I felt like I was deciphering an ancient birthday code. "I, X, V, I... oh great, I'm 46.
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