If Not Pent Up, Might Not Blow

So yeah, tomorrow is my birthday.

And for the past four years or so, I've suffered some sort of mental breakdown as a result.

Crying, panic attacks, irrational fears over my teeth falling out, it's never a pretty sight. Last year was the worst. Heading into a new decade with a compound hangover, and some horribly unforgettable behaviour on my part, I was not terribly pleased with my birthday extravaganza.

One year, I had a huge bawling fit over having to waitress the day after I saw my grandparents. Mind you, I really love my grandparents, who I rarely get to see, and really hated the customers at the Groundhog Pub, so I feel I had good reason to be on an emotional roller coaster at the time.

When I was in grade one, birthdays would be celebrated by the entire class standing around the birthday boy/girl, and singing them a Bonne Fete (French Immersion). I think there was also some sort of cake eating involved, and maybe some festive hats, too. I was totally looking forward to this special treatment for my own birthday, so you can imagine my disappointment when my stupid teacher forgot my birthday.

And when I told my mom about it, and she called my teacher to ask WTF, the teacher told her that we did celebrate my birthday, and I must have just forgotten.

What a freaky bitch.

Anyway, tomorrow, I'm planning on working during the day and getting drunk with a few select friends in the evening. If drunkenly hitting on the foxy bartender is the worst thing I do, and I hope I don't even do that, I'll count myself blessed.

Wish me luck!