When I was younger, birthdays were an event. As a child, there were parties to be held, loot bags to be distributed, toys to be acquired, opened, assembled and played with, not to mention occasionally repaired immediately thereafter. As a young man, there were social outings with friends to be organized; alcohol to be consumed; hangovers to be survived. Birthdays were significant and complicated social occasions, the enjoyment and success of which were difficult things to evaluate.
I am now 43, and things have changed. I have significantly simplified the criteria for assessing the success of a birthday. For a successful birthday, I must:
- Go home early from work;
- Eat tacos for dinner; and
- Not get injured in any way during the day.
I am pleased to report that yesterday, Spouse and I managed to go three for three – though it was touch and go on number one there for a while, and it is debatable whether leaving the building at 4:58 really counts as “going home early”. Nevertheless, I prefer to declare the day a success.
One more lap around the sun successfully completed.
Happy birthday, bro. You’re a rudey.
Awww, eye!!! I’m blushing!!!!1
Happy Birthday! I eat tacos for my birthday most years too, every year as a kid.
Congratulations on another successful circumsolar cycle; as more proof of the bizarro life we lead, our ages now have the digits precisely reversed (this will happen every eleven years; I suppose there’s some higher math at work beyond simple love of tacos and hockey).
@Godd: Thx for the birthday wishes. Tacos rule, man.
@Mike: Thx also for the good wishes. As for our bizarro connection, let’s do a quick science experiment: empty your pockets and count the change. 57 cents, right? Or maybe 75? This is spooky, man. Oh, and I don’t think there IS any higher math than that involving tacos and hockey.