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And can we talk about birthday candles on the cake? You're supposed to make a wish, but all I'm thinking is, "I wish my friends didn't surprise me with karaoke." Also, extinguishing those candles is a fire hazard. I almost singed my eyebrows last year. Safety first, people! Then there's the birthday song. It starts off with everyone in unison, but by the end, it's a chaotic mess of people singing different versions. It's like a musical game of telephone. And why do we always clap on the offbeat? It's like our rhythm is powered by awkwardness.
Finally, there's the group photo. Nothing says "celebration" like trying to corral a bunch of people who've had one too many slices of cake into a picture. It's like herding cats, but with a sugar rush.
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And the worst part is the unsolicited advice. "You're not getting any younger, you know." Oh really? I thought aging was the secret fountain of youth. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Then there's the sudden interest in your health. "Have you had a check-up recently?" Yes, and my doctor said I'm perfectly healthy, except for the fact that I now have to worry about cholesterol. It's like, "Happy birthday! Here's a side of medical anxiety with your cake."
But the silver lining of getting older is that you can blame everything on age. Forgot someone's name? "Sorry, it's the old brain fog." Can't keep up with technology? "Back in my day, we had dial-up internet." It's the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card.
So, here's to birthdays, where we celebrate getting wiser, gaining experience, and pretending that we're totally cool with the fact that time is marching on faster than my metabolism.
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Now, I appreciate the well-wishes, but can we talk about the pressure of responding to each one individually? It's like a digital version of passing out party favors. "Thanks, Aunt Susan, for the cake emoji. Really captured the essence of the day!" And why does everyone suddenly become a poet on your birthday? "May your day be as bright as your future." Well, my future is filled with student loans and questionable career choices, so maybe tone down the brightness a bit.
You also have those people who refuse to reveal their age. "I'm forever 21." Really? Because last time I checked, forever 21 filed for bankruptcy. That's not a good omen for your eternity.
So, here's a thought: instead of counting the years, let's count the calories in the birthday cake. At least that way, we'll have a tangible reason for the post-birthday blues.
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And don't get me started on re-gifting. You can always tell when a gift is a re-gift. "Oh, you shouldn't have!" Well, you didn't want it, so now I don't want it either. It's like a game of hot potato, but with unwanted candle holders. Then there are those friends who get you a gift card. Sure, it's convenient, but it feels like they're saying, "I couldn't be bothered to pick something out, so here's a plastic card with money on it. Go buy your own disappointment."
But the worst is the group gift. You know, when everyone chips in for a big, expensive present. It's a nice gesture until you realize you now owe them all individual thank-you cards. It's like a friendship invoice.
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