It's Your Birthday, That's Why We Put on Paper Hats

written by the vassar comikaze

Did you know that more people are born in April than any other month? Okay, I made that up. The actual statistic is that more people are conceived in April than in any other month. Wait, I lied about that too. Most people have their birthdays in June…or was it July? I guess that was a pretty bad way of articulating it, but what I really want to talk about are birthdays. We all have birthdays. Birthdays and Christ.

Like any kid, I used to love having birthday parties. Not just because of the cool stuff people would give me, but also because of the gifts and presents I’d get. My most memorable birthday party was when I turned six, and it was held in the basement of my apartment building. I got to bust open a piñata, a friend of mine puked and two of the Power Rangers stopped by. They came in their rubber suits and everything, dancing around to the theme song (just like the real Power Rangers!) Everyone mobbed them on sight, pleading with them to summon the megazord. I remember being disappointed when they left the party soon after their grand entrance, but the half hour they were there was enough to make me skeet my wee little overalls.

Towards the end of the party, my sister and I went upstairs to get something from her room. I tried turning the knob to get in, but the door was locked. Naturally, my sister was pissed that she was locked out of her own room. She started knocking on the door, loudly demanding entry. No answer. We turned the knob together with all we had, pushing on the door with our combined effort until it flew open. Standing in the middle of the room were the two rangers, helmets off and rubber costumes at their ankles. The red ranger’s balls dangled out of his boxers. We all stared at each other for a moment or so, until the white ranger remarked, “Uh, we’re naked.” My sister and I slammed the door, looked at each other and laughed hysterically.

My birthdays are nowhere near as exciting or memorable anymore: I literally have no clue what I did to celebrate over the last five years. The only recent birthday I can remember was this past December, and all I did was get high and eat steak tacos. Oh yeah, I also checked my Facebook every half hour to see how many people wished me a happy birthday. What a day.

The weird part is that I don’t care that my recent birthdays haven’t been spectacular. I’m perfectly content just chilling with a few of my friends and going a day without being bothered. Does that mean I’m getting old?