You wait all year for it, and when it does come, it only last for one day. No I am not talking about an AFL grand final, I am talking about birthdays. Having just celebrated my birthday a few days ago, it got me reflecting on just how special the day actually is.
Birthday’s celebrate a number of things, like the moment you came into this world, the fact that you have managed to stay alive for another year, and you ability to look surprised when people give you rubbish and pass it off as a gift.
But the best thing about having a birthday is the fact it’s the only day of the year that you can act like a spoilt brat and get away with it, and the only day that “But it’s my birthday” is an acceptable excuse for anything, I wonder if it would work for murder as well?
So in conclusion, get as much as you can out of the day, make unreasonable demands and then get mad when people tell you what you’re asking for is impossible to do, get drunk and trying picking up your female friends. Because if you tried that kind of stuff at any other time of the year, all you will get is a kick in the crotch.
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