So my birthday is coming up and I have some demands. I want some attention. Not a big fuss or lots of “Happy Birthday” from everyone. I want some swag. You can put it in a brown paper sack and throw it at me and say, “Here I got you some shit for your birthday.” That is fine with me.

This trip around the sun will make thirty four for me. It is the no-mans land of birthday celebrations. I don’t get any big fuss again until the big 4-0. Fantastic. Six more years of successfully surviving and no pomp-and-circumstance. Like most things in life, my early experiences turned out to be a total lie and have left me wanting something more.

Santa = Disappointment; Easter Bunny = Weird concept but still a disappointment; Tooth Fairy = Creepy. Thankfully, not true. Birthdays = Things are getting better. Wait… you just passed it.

First Birthday – This is like the kick-off of life. Being born and living that first year is a challenge and you did it. You made it a year so lets go ahead and start counting the number of years you make it. Don’t worry, it isn’t a race. More like the stock market; You don’t want to get out to early but you don’t want to stay in too long either.

Second through Fifth Birthday – You are not yet in school so family parties are still a big thing. Each year is closer to school and not shitting you pants in public. Congratulations.

Sixth through Twelfth Birthday – These are commemorated by what grade you are in school and by your school friends. These make for excellent pictures much later in life. You never know what future politicians or in-laws will be lurking around.

Thirteen – You are a teenager. God save the queen.

Fifteen – Learners permit. Only one more year until you can blow this popsicle stand and drive yourself to boring places like work and school.

Sixteen – Yay you can drive. Oh crap, now you have to drive… to school, to work, to get milk because mom doesn’t want to get out. Sucker. Not so cool now is it?

Eighteen – You are free to make adult choices like assuming massive amounts of debt and going to federal prison for crimes that get juveniles a slap on the wrist. Welcome to the club.

Twenty One – The crescendo. This is the birthday that is the turning point in life. You are simultaneously celebrating youth/vitality, independence, and starting the downward spiral to your health by abusing your liver. I woke up from my twenty first birthday with a grey hair and a liver spot. It is all downhill from there.

Thirty – This is the official start of realizing that the “give-a-shit” meter for your birthdays is on the downswing. I was really impressed that I turned thirty. Nineteen-year-old-me would call bullshit. We both thought I would be dead by now. High fives. With three and a half kids and knee deep in a career decision, this one felt like I was down the first hill of the rollercoaster and approaching the first loop. The people behind me were on the way up and likely to run me over.

For birthdays past that we will count by tens. Forty, Fifty, Sixty, Seventy. Then birthdays begin to pick up steam. They grow into a “Holy shit you are still alive!”, around ninety years old. But beware, if you have the audacity to hang around they will probably continue only hitting the high notes. With medical advances, I think you only get the big deal treatment on an annual basis if you make it to 100+.

Following that logic – I am only one-third of the way to an annual “big deal” celebration. Unacceptable. So here are my demands for my birthday.

1) Funny t-shirt. XL. I have requested one that says, “Similes are like Metaphors” but I am opening it up to any funny shirts in general. Nerdy leanings are a plus.
2) Dinner and a movie. I want to be taken out to eat and go see a movie. A violent, swearing masterpiece of science and suspense. Or Mocking Jay. Or something animated. But the food should definitely be a steak.
3) A massage. I need these stresses and worries worked out of my back. I have never had a real official massage because I have a tickle spot on my middle back that is a no touch zone. I think I could make it past that for a quality massage.
4) A “back rub”. The kind of back rub that husbands have in mind when they offer one to their wife. I want that one. From my wife though, not from some dudes. That might have been unclear in the first sentence.
5) Peace and quiet. A day to myself. Not a car ride that is quiet or a break at work. I want a day of nothingness with no phone and no requirements. I want to wake up and go out of the house and do whatever strikes my fancy for 24 hours.

I don’t think this is too unreasonable. I will also accept cold, hard cash and precious metals. Oh yeah, November 17th is the day.

If you want a little fuss in your life, this post is for you. You’re welcome. Now be a champ and buy me a steak.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.