Birfdays

One of the things that I do when I think you are cool is celebrate your birthday. Yes, I am going to get all up in your bidness and ask you when your birthday is, and then when it comes around I will do something celebratory in honor of your you-ness. I can’t help it, it’s how I was raised. I love my birthday. And if I love you, I love your birthday. There’s nothing like being loved and honored by your homies on your DOB, and admit it, it feels kind of rotted to have a birthday when your friends/family forget it, like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles.

I know there are those of you that don’t want to celebrate your birthday, and I respect that, but it’s hard. It’s easier for me to respect differences like if you’re a different religion than me, or have different political affiliations, or you think that baseball is better than kickball. But not letting people who love you celebrate your birthday? Huh? To be honest, you people that are like that are... weird. Flat out. I’m an understanding person, but I don’t get that. Don’t. Get. It. What is going on with you that you don’t want a present? A PRESENT. Are you kidding me? Or a cake, or ice cream, or an effin’ card? Receive the love, people; it’s ok. It makes me worry for your self-esteem when you don’t want the love. Who refuses expressions of love? Not giving your peeps an opportunity to love the shit out of you is just harsh. It seems like the older I get, the more people are doing this. Like we’re all too old and crusty for birthdays, bah humbug, and fun like that is only for the wee ones.

So in my small way, I am combatting this anti-birthday-ism, which, in my opinion, is merely an indicator of the larger problem of people losing their desire to party and deciding to curl into a dried up musty pruneball. Just think of me as Viagara for birthdays. Stop being a grumpy curmudgeon and have some fun. Claim a whole day as yours, ALL YOURS, and graciously accept some lovin’. If you feel like you don't deserve it, then I'm going to give it to you straight: THAT'S DUMB. Everyone deserves You-Appreciation-Day. You don’t want a party, fine. No presents, no sweet treats, ok. Tell you what I’m going to do. When it’s your birthday, my friends out there, I will give you some love on this blog. If you’re on my birthday calendar, you are getting a Librarian Girl shout-out.

Today’s birthday shout-out is for my Bay Area Brother, who’s birthday is on Wednesday. He taught me my perfect frisbee throw, and read me Animal Farm when I was 8. He watched Grizzly Adams with me, was the only person in my family to come see me in my first college play, and brought bilingual poop jokes to a high art form when we were little. He had a crazy looking wallpaper mural of a waterfall plastered onto his bedroom wall, is the only person to this day that can beat me at foozball, and has the flattest pancake ass on the planet. We used to make comedy skits in which he would star and I would videotape/direct, including a Kung Fu style movie called “Kung Fool” that ended with him and my other brother salsa dancing in a giant sombrero and a Carmen-Miranda fruit-hat, respectively. Much of my crazy sense of humor comes straight from this dude. Happy birthday, brother. xx oo.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl