Every year when my birthday rolls around, I forget. Honestly. I forget my own birthday. It isn’t that I don’t like birthdays. It’s just that at this point my life isn’t quite where I want it to be. There are still a lot of things that I have yet to accomplish. So when my birthday rolls around I can’t help but look at back at yet another year in my lifespan and think about all the things that didn’t get done.
Dang. Now that I read that back to myself, it sounds really depressing. Ok. New deal. When I accomplish all those fancy life goals, when I get the high paying job, the hot little wife, and the 3.2 children with the white picket fence, I will celebrate my birthday. I’ll celebrate it, and I’ll celebrate it big. Maybe even with fireworks. My entire neighborhood will have to join in the festivities because I’ll be launching ridiculously loud and booming fireworks off my white picket fence with my 3.2 children while my hot little wife barbecues large amounts of red meat. It will be an annual party that the entire town looks forward to. And every year when it ends the neighbors will go home to their houses and families and say to each other, “Wow, that guy sure knows how to throw a birthday party! And did you see that picket fence?!?”
Yes, it will be an annual birthday bash of epic proportions. That way I’ll make up for all the nameless birthdays over the years that I forgot.