I hate birthday people. The Insta-story reposters and 3-day-birthday-weekenders who go out of their way to make sure that everyone knows that they’re still alive. God-forbid they realize that most of us don’t care. I know I sound like a curmudgeon, the Scrooge of birthdays, running around and ruining everyone’s joy even though it costs me nothing to allow them to have it. But, to be clear, it’s not that I don’t want people to do what makes them happy. I just don’t like being expected to change my behavior to make up for whatever it is that they lack.
Uggghhhhh your writing is soooo good. That bit where you’re definitely not thinking about the same thing as Cheryl had me in stitches
My mom always made a big deal about birthdays. When I graduated from Berkeley I spent a year becoming The Birthday Princess. I did parties for kids of all ages. The Washington Post wanted to interview me the week I was returning to California. I still like to send out a fun, funny, or crisp picture to those I like on FB on their days. I enjoy your humor! Can't wait to read more YOU!
The way you described Cheryl was perfect. I could picture her exactly. She reminds me of the sort of person who has slightly smeared lipstick or a piece of lettuce in their teeth that is incredibly distracting as you try to listen to their self-absorbed story.