After you turn 50, every birthday is traumatic…but the ones with a zero in them are especially brutal. And I mean brutal. Like Game of Thrones brutal. And, next week I’m going to have one of those birthdays. How do I feel about it? Okay, since you didn’t ask me, I’m going to unload and tell you exactly what this one feels like. Have you seen those abused animal ads with the pathetic, orphaned, beat up cats and dogs in their cages being serenaded by Sarah McLachlin yodeling In the Arms of the Angels in the background? Okay, you got the picture that describes me…mangy, unloved, old, and abandoned. Thanks for asking. However, on second thought, no wonder those poor creatures are depressed and suicidal looking. If I had to sit there all day listening to Sarah wailing that Godawful song, I’d hang myself from my leash in the cage.
Here’s the rest of the bad news about decade birthdays. I fully expect to be barraged with all those lame-ass birthday cards making fun of the fact that I can now be officially classified as an old fart. These dopey cards feature the same old tired gag lines like:
**You’ll be putting out the birthday candles on your cake with a fire hose
**Your bra size is 36 Long
**You’re now be able to multi-task: laugh and pee at the same time
Yeah, I know Karma’s a bitch. I’ve sent hundreds of these stupid cards to my friends, myself. But the hilarity doesn’t stop at the cards, my friends. Oh no. There’s also the added torture of having to hear your friends spouting inane platitudes like:
**Getting old is a bitch but it beats the alternative
**Age? It’s only a number. You’re only as old as you think you are!
** Congratulations! You’ve earned every one of those lines and wrinkles in your face
OMG! If this isn’t enough, I’ll have to brace myself for all the gag gifts given by my jokester friends. And, every one of them will be products designed to help my deteriorating body functions…specifically colon issues like flatulence, constipation or diarrhea:
**Giant-size jar of Beano
**Gift box of Fleet enemas
** Gift certificate for a colonoscopy
**Box of Preparation H
**The Squatty Potty
So this is the rollicking fun and hilarity I have to look forward to. Well, I’ve got news for you. This year, I’m going to deprive myself and my friends by opting out of this “celebration” for the chronologically challenged. Instead, my plan is to stick a catheter into my vein and run a continuous stream of Propofol through my body for 24 hours. Then it’ll all be over when or if I wake up. And from where I stand now, either alternative sounds pretty good to me.