As a couple of you may have noticed, if’n you’ve been around here long enough, for the past few years (five to be exact), I have had the Birthday Curse. This means that on my birthday, or within a week of my birthday, something stupid happens. This year, BioGirl has moved back home and she has declared herself on a mission to break the Birthday Curse, once and for all. This is a good thing because I had seriously given up hope. I had quietly (ok maybe not so quietly at first) resigned myself to a life full of Eeyore-style birthdays. She, however, was Not Having It. And if there is a hallmark to BioGirl, it is that she can make things happen with sheer force of will and even aggression if she has to. I was going to have a good birthday or she might have to give the birthday gods a knuckle sandwich, dig? It was like everyone, for miles around, had to capitulate to my Birthday. OR ELSE. She was going to boss her way into a good birthday for me and she was not kidding. 90% of me was glad. 10% of me was kind of scared. What if she put in all this effort and then my birthday sucked anyway? Now not only would I have to feel bad about a shitty birthday, but I would have to feel bad for her, that she tried and failed. It was double pressure. My expectations, and now hers. It was as if I had Double Stuff hubris cream in my oreo cookie.
I needn’t have worried. She stomped that Birthday Curse right in the face! First, as I told you about before, she corralled my friends and made me up a fancy birthday advent calendar. I have thoroughly been enjoying waking up every morning and opening a gift each and every single day. POW, Birthday Curse! Eat THAT.
Besides the calendar, BioGirl and Nordic Boy also threw me a birthday party over the weekend. And the day of the party, I decided to treat myself. I went and got my hair did. My stylist offered to discount a fancy hairdo for me for my birthday (which, geez, how awesome is that?). So I went and she totally worked some hair magic on me. It was all curls and bounce and shine like I had just come out of the Tresemme Hair Salon and all I had left to do was to make a stop at the Loreal Paris Make Up Room and the Bluefly Accessory Wall, if you know what I’m saying and I think you do. My hair alone could have gotten me a seat on the Pretty Committee. It was hair magic.
And an aside– I had a book with me during the styling appointment. I was reading this. Which is more geeky than sexy, despite the title, and so I didn’t really feel weird reading it in front of my stylist. There aren’t nasty illustrations or anything like that. Um, at least I thought there weren’t. Until I turned the page and there was a drawing of a man putting his hand…in a pig. And by “in” I mean…IN. Like, in the pig’s hoohah. Granted, the chapter was about the research on sow insemination (which did you know that that is often done by hand? I am here to educate, people) and what that reveals about the physiological fertility processes in mammals…but STILL. I closed the book fast and I am not sure if my stylist saw it.
Hi stylist! The librarian readeth the pervy books!
Anyway. My hair looked awesome. The problem? Saturday just happened to be a wind storm. 30-45 mile per hour winds, to be exact, with power outages all over the city. So as I left the salon? Pretty Committee. By the time I walked in the door of my house? Cranial birds’ nest. Which I guess could have come out of the Tresemme Hair Salon, since some people who go there end up looking like this.
This may be tragic in terms of hair, but it wasn’t bad enough to be Birthday Curse-worthy or anything.
I got my hair looking respectable and went to my party. And, despite my fears, people showed up. Actual people! Not party cyborgs for rent! HUMAN PEOPLE. Nice ones, even! What a relief. I really was convinced that no one would come. I was braced for disappointment. You see what the Curse has done to me?
At any rate, the party was lovely, a total success, and there were cupcakes and I got to show off my horrifying billiards skills and everything.
On Sunday, I had the perfect day with Nordic Boy. We stayed in bed until 10 (which is very, very late in our geriatric world), went out to brunch, stopped off at the bookstore to browse, and then took a two-hour nap until dinner time. Then I got to open presents from him, which were above and beyond the call of duty. Then he made me dinner, we watched old movies, and we ate leftover cupcakes from the night before. We had our phones turned off for the whole day. It was the best.
So it is official. BioGirl, Nordic Boy, and all of my other peeps have successfully browbeaten the Birthday Curse into remission. I didn’t believe it could be done, but there you have it.
Birthday Curse, FUCK OFF.