Musings of a Wench

Stupid fucking birthday

On one hand, I love my birthday. I get to pick out a cake and people buy me things I (generally) like and my parent either take me out for dinner or make me the meal of my choosing. So that's nice. This year my mother has even offered to take me to a performance of Arsenic and Old Lace (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0036613/), the classic Broadway play, from which Cary Grant played the lead in the movie. It's delightfully funny. Some gems:

Mortimer Brewster: Now look, darling, how did he die? Abby Brewster: Oh, Mortimer, don't be so inquisitive. The gentleman died because he drank some wine with poison in it. Mortimer Brewster: Well, how did the poison get in the wine? Martha Brewster: Well, we put in wine because it's less noticeable. When it's in tea it has a distinct odor.

Mortimer Brewster: Aunt Abby, how can I believe you? There are twelve bodies in the cellar and you admit you poisoned them. Aunt Abby Brewster: Yes, I did. But you don't think I'd stoop to telling a fib.

It was one of the first plays I saw in a theatre - my grandparents took me when I was a child. It's great. I've watched the movie several times. So that part of my birthday I am very much looking forwards to.

The part where Cathy cooks me food and makes a Precious Moments cake complete with the "right" pattern on it is, well, let's call it cute. And let's be fair - it's not always Precious Moments. Last year John got Bob the Builder for his 22nd, Will got Thomas the Train (?) for his 22nd, Christine got a ballet dancing bear for her 21st. I think I got a book last year, which was cool because I was doing NaNo at the time. It's just weird. I mean, we're all adults by western standards and hell, even last year John and I were living together. So what's with the infantilism? (Hey, did I mention they still call him Pumpkin? Weird, I know.)

But even still - cake, lots of presents from them and good food aren't anything to complain about.

However.

Then there's that party. My party. In my house. My birthday party that no one ever shows up at. Okay, that's not strictly true. Some people are good and always show. The others? Not so much. It's actually ridiculously depressing, on the whole. The only really successful birthday party I've ever thrown was my 20th, where we all dressed up in costumes and went roller skating. That was pretty cool.

But the rest suck, and I don't know why, and it just really makes me feel sorry for myself. Oh well. At least there will be boozies.

posted by Morgan @ 2:24 p.m.